Darling, You Give Love a Bad Name
by GRock87
Summary: The story of the mission that went south. Seriously south. Basically, Niki gets shot, and it all goes haywire from there. Featuring Birkhoff being Birkhoff, Mikita, Salex, and getting inside of Roan's head. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

**My very first attempt at writing fanfiction. I'm hoping to continue it, but I'll see what kind of feedback I get before I write more chapters.**

**The title is from .com/watch?v=mc954nt-7Io That Bon Jovi song cuz it was the first thing that popped into my head. **

**I apologize if there are medical inaccuracies. **

_It always would have been like this_, she thought as the bullet caught her through the back of her right shoulder. _Even if I hadn't gotten out of there... I don't think it could have been anyone else. _She fell; fell so hard, her face hitting the uncaring concrete as her world turned into a sheer wall of blinding pain.

After a few seconds, just lying there, she felt a sharp nudge in her side. Someone was rolling her over with their foot. She wished they wouldn't. She was busy counting, counting to see how much longer she could make it with at least two broken ribs from earlier and now the lovely bullet that had gone clean through her shoulder. Her eyes were still screwed shut, but she didn't need to see him to know he was there.

His voice, so cold, always so calculated. He had always scared her a bit, although she never would have admitted it to anyone. The Terminator, with his indestructible glasses, his slashing knives. Even after all these years, an encounter with Roan could still mean a slash to the stomach with those curved knives he is so very fond of. "I never expected you to make it so easy for me, Nikita" he said, with a faint hint of cruel amusement in his voice. "Really, you have come down in the world." She heard him step a few feet away, she knew what he was going to do to her. He was going to kill her and then dissolve her away and there was nothing she could do but lie there and hoped she bled out first.

She was slipping away, then, she could barely concentrate on what was happening, she could barely feel her own body. His words slid in and out of her mind and then got all jumbled up and nothing made sense. She heard the gun go off, fully expecting it to be the last thing she ever heard. She was defeated, right? Michael, Alex, Birkhoff, Owen, Ryan, Sean….. None of them could help her now. It occurred to her a few seconds later that if that gunshot had been meant for her, she should probably be dead right now. Which meant... someone else was shooting? Was this a good thing or a bad thing? She couldn't tell. Thinking was the most exhausting thing she had ever done. She contemplated opening her eyes for a second or two and decided it wasn't worth it.

She heard the soft whumph of a falling body hitting the ground some ten feet away. She heard a voice calling her name, she wondered if it was Carla, maybe. Or all the people that owed her their deaths, all the agents and targets, some with names and some without. Or maybe the mother she had never met, if she had already gone on. But that wasn't right. She felt something like recognition stirring in a corner of her brain. But she couldn't connect the voice and a name; she could barely even stay conscious.

Her tired mind started listing the options, and then gave up. What was the use, really, anyway? It wasn't as if she had a chance of surviving Roan once he had her like this.

She let her world slowly fade to black.

* * *

He ran towards her inert body, sniper rifle still in hand. This entire nightmarish day had been a blur, ever since the mission went sour and they had been separated. Somehow, Division got wind of the op and now Roan was here and oh god, there was so much blood. It seemed like too much to even be possible.

Michael paused there for a second, the tiniest second, feeling anger and pain and bewilderment as he looked down upon the graceful form of the woman he loved with all his heart.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, you are not leaving me, not again," he found himself muttering as he wadded up his jacket and pressed it into her shoulder, desperately trying to stanch the flow of blood. The soldier in him assessed her injuries. The bullet looked as if it had passed clean through her shoulder, and since she had met up with Roan she probably had a few broken bones as well. She wasn't quite gone yet, but she would die all too quickly if he didn't do something to stop the flow of blood.

He heard a voice yelling vague insults in his ear, and realized that Birkhoff was on the coms. He had been trying to talk to him for two whole minutes, apparently. Michael had no way to know if Birkhoff was telling the truth, he really hadn't being paying much attention to anything else since he saw Nikita go down. After his immediate reaction, which happened to be to shoot Roan and then run to his girl, his world was flipping upside-down and he didn't know what he was going to do next.

All he knew was that Nikita was bleeding out in front of him and probably should go to a hospital. A hospital where Division could use their facial and voice-recognition software to find them. He scooped up her petite form in his arms, ignoring Roan's fallen body, and ran out of the warehouse into the waiting car outside, speeding awayas fast as he dared.

* * *

At first, Birkhoff couldn't tell what the hell was wrong with Mikey. Fortunately, being the shadow walker and possessing such raw amounts of pure awesomeness, he could pretty much make out what the dude was trying to say. Wasn't hard to guess, really, Mikey would never freak out and stop talking unless something was seriously up with Niki.

"Dude. Dude. DUDE. MIKEY! What the hell happened to Niki?"

It took a few agonizing moments for him to answer, and Birkhoff felt his heart stop when he heard the terse reply, "She's hit. We're coming in. Get ready for a long night."

Of course, it probably didn't help that he had been drinking Red Bull non-stop ever since Division showed up at the exact same warehouse they were trying to rob. It was pure chaos trying to figure out what the hell happened to everyone, but as far as he could tell Niki had gone after the goods while Mikey went to take out the strike team from the catwalks.

He nearly fell backwards out of his chair as he tried to scramble up as quickly as possible. This whole being part of a team deal really did suck sometimes.

* * *

Roan lay on the cold concrete floor, assessing the situation as if it were an ordinary mission. That was who he was. Always calculating, always assessing, and never acting irrationally or emotionally. What was the use in all that? All it caused was unnecessary interest in whatever you were doing. And that was the last thing that anyone wanted.

He realized he was getting sidetracked. This would not do. It would never do. He replayed the loop, starting from the beginning, reviewing the origins of the situation. _Really, _he mused, _the only rational way to deal with this mess of a mission._

Current situation: Shot in abdomen. Poses immediate health risk and must be treated as soon as humanly possible to minimize damage. Additional Disadvantages: Unaware of opponents. Limited visibility: Lost glasses. Advantages: Nikita poses no immediate threat, has been effectively neutralized. Potential for recovering firearm if able to move in immediate area.

He moved forward into his thinking process, already plotting, already planning his next move.

Most likely scenario leading up to current situation: Nikita was shot, drawing attention. We have confirmed sighting of Michael in the area. The shot that took me out was long distance, and shot from a high altitude. Most likely situation: Michael heard shot, came to find Nikita, viewed me about to complete the kill and clean the body. Unknown threat, most likely Michael then fired from the catwalks of the warehouse.

He knew what he was most likely up against. He tilted his head ever so slightly, cracked his eyes open , and was rewarded with a glimpse of a blurred shape that vaguely resembled his glasses a few feet away. _To reacquire them is crucial to my next course of action in any scenario. _He stopped all movement immediately, and listened intently. He heard a man's voice, and immediately identified it as Michael's. _Situation confirmed. Completion of mission: "Kill Nikita" unlikely without additional support. Medical attention first. _Roan listened some more, and after a few minutes determined that Michael posed no immediate threat. The man was entirely focused on Nikita, pathetically trying to get her to stay with him. Ah, love. He could never accept such a weakness. Look what it had done to Michael, ravaged his world once when he lost his family and then made him weak, traitorous, and pathetic again for Nikita. It also made him make stupid mistakes like carry Nikita away without checking if Roan was still alive or not. Loving someone would give Roan a permanent disadvantage, one he could never neutralize. And that was what he did best. Neutralize disadvantages. Forever.

**So, what do you think? Continue? Not continue? Kind of a clichéd situation, I guess…. But I had fun writing Birkhoff and Roan. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Really was not expecting that much of a response, well, at all! Thank you to everyone who favorite, followed, and especially reviewed. So many people are so very lovely. **

Michael gunned down the side street, glancing at Nikita as often as he dared, just to reassure himself that it wasn't too late, that she was still breathing. She looked paler, her breathing was shallow. Nothing unexpected, but he still felt himself speed up, panicking at the sight of her, in real danger and beyond his reach. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. _I need to concentrate right now. I did all I could, and now I need to get her home. _He had stopped the flow of blood from her shoulder as much as possible with what limited medical supplies they carried, but there was no telling if she had any internal bleeding. _Crashing isn't going to help much, Michael. Get it together._ Then he realized that he had heard the last two sentences in her voice. _God, Niki, if you don't make it…_ He couldn't even think about it without feeling that roiling anger combined with bitter, bitter, loss and despair, that same anger and loss that had consumed him after he'd lost Elizabeth and Hailey. Without her, his world was a blank.

It was just so god damn frustrating, not being able to help her. Not being able to look into her eyes and know that she was going to be okay. He'd thought she was dead twice already, and the second time had nearly killed him. He was not going to let her die now, now that they had come so far and risked so much, almost lost each other so many times and then came back together stronger than ever.

He might've sped up a little bit then, just a little bit. And may have blown a stop sign or three. Okay, all of them. But hey, the government owed them one. And she was definitely worth it.

* * *

Birkhoff knew Niki was in trouble the second Mikey walked in carrying her and he saw her injury. Her shoulder was soaked in blood and she looked paler than he'd ever seen her. He blinked rapidly as images of Carla, shot, Carla, dying, Carla, dead, started dancing in front of his eyes. _Not the time, dude. Mikey definitely needs a bro, and Niki's gonna need some serious help over here._

Mikey didn't even glance at him as he walked in, carried Niki over to the couch, and laid her down gently. Birkhoff realized that he hadn't even managed to give his usual witty greeting, but maybe now wasn't really the greatest time for that. Hell, he couldn't even think of anything to say, even with his epic sarcasm skills. He shook his head slightly, just not believing that this was real, and then it occurred to him Mikey probably could use some help. _Too bad I feel completely useless. Come on, dude, you got this. You got this. Be awesome for Niki. She looks like she needs it right now. _ This whole mission had gone wrong from the start, but of course, Niki's the boss and she's not going to give up a mission just because there's an entire strike team headed by Roan already in the warehouse. No. Of course not. But still, Percy really was missing the whole "go die in a hole" concept.

Birkhoff sighed, resolved to work on his hot-babe-got-shot bedside manner, and went to go help Mikey. All he really wanted to do was get the hell out of there, but if Niki didn't make it, he hardly thought letting Mikey do something insane was a good way to pay his last respects. Plus, if he lost Niki, who else would steal ridiculous amounts of HIS money for clothes and god knows what else while simultaneously managing to drive him batshit crazy?

* * *

Alex revved the engine of the car, because the mission was going well and she felt like it. _Not because it makes you feel cool. Nope. Not down to that level yet_. Birkhoff had been oddly silent on the coms, but that was Birkhoff for you. He probably had overdosed on Red Bull or something. She really hoped that things hadn't gone wrong in the other warehouse, the one that Michael and Nikita gone to raid. It would figure that they couldn't keep the crates of top-secret-super-spy-rifles in the same warehouse, nooooo, of course, they had to be on opposite ends of the warehouse district.

She looked impatiently back at Sean as he loaded the crate of rifles in the trunk. Whatever Percy had been planning to use them for, he really wasn't going to be getting them now. She smirked. Even now, striking against Division still felt oh so sweet. Although it was a little weird that a mission had actually gone as planned for once. She really couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

As they pulled up to the latest safe house, she noticed that Michael and Nikita were already back. _Always the overachievers,_ she thought with a grin. They got out of the car, ready to celebrate a job well done and figure out what the heck was so special about these rifles. Sean grabbed the crate out of the trunk and she flirtatiously quipped, "Remind me to bring a big strong man to carry my luggage more often."

He smiled for a second, laughing at her playfulness. "Yeah, well, remind me to find a lady who doesn't carry around rifles all the time."

They walked in the front door, grins lingering on their faces, ready for something moderately cheerful

Instead, they stepped right into their worst nightmare.

* * *

Michael stepped back from the couch, wiping her blood off of his hands and feeling truly drained. If Percy had shown up and presented himself on a large silver platter, he didn't think he'd have the mental or physical wherewithal to shoot him. With Birkhoff's "help," he'd managed to clean the wound, but something was troubling him. He'd bandaged her shoulder, but from what he'd seen the bullet had done more interior damage then they'd thought. If it'd nicked a bone and shattered it internally, they then really were royally screwed.

He heard a small shriek from the doorway, and glanced over with tired eyes. Alex and Sean were back, good. At least something was going right. Not that it really mattered much. If they lost Niki, then what was the point? There was revenge, and then there was nothing. No future, not for him, anyway. He barely even registered what Alex was saying, all he could make out was, "OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"

"It's bad," he replied, with no emotion, no strength left in his gravelly voice. "We're not going to be able to handle this on our own."

Birkhoff looked at him, startled, and he could see the alarm in his eyes. "Mikey, you know we can't put her in a hospital."

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. There really was no way around it, not that he could see. "We don't have a choice anymore."

* * *

Birkhoff looked at Mikey like he was crazy. He was about to make some witty, sarcastic reply, when he glanced down at Niki and then back up at MIkey. He felt his entire, I-know-what-I'm-doing-here-listen-to-me mojo deflate. He sighed. Mikey looked exhausted and desperate, about as exhausted and desperate as he felt. He didn't know that much about shoulders, or getting shot, or really, gross medical information in general, but Niki's shoulder looked bad and her breathing was shallow. Didn't take the world's greatest hacker to figure out something was wrong. And since he totally was the world's greatest hacker, it looked like it was up to him to make sure they handled this one right.

"Mikey, you can't do this, man. Division's got voice and facial recognition software everywhere, dude. They'd catch her the second she picked up on a security camera," he explained, trying to make him see what he was doing here.

Mikey looked at him, and Birkhoff realized that Mikey was at the end of his rope. The dude kind of had major issues with the people he loved best in the world getting hurt and/or dying, and it really did make sense for him to be just a little bit unhinged right now. It must be hell, looking at Nikita and seeing a car bomb explode over and over in your head, and realizing that all of this might be happening again. But he was shaken from his whole walking-in-your-moccasins reverie by Mikey's next question. "Can't you do that morph thing, with the video feed? You know, put another face over hers?"

Birkhoff felt his will to argue begin to drain. That was not good. This was a crazy idea, there was no way it could work. "Mikey, that program has to be done manually, and I can't sit and type for the next god-knows how long. We don't even know if Percy has any agents stashed around in hospitals, just in case. The old bat is sure paranoid enough for it. If you need a doc, he's gonna have to come here."

BIrkhoff glanced over at Alex and Sean, and almost felt like laughing purely because of the way their faces looked. They looked like they'd just been watching a very engrossing tennis match, their heads swinging from Birkhoff to Michael and back again as they argued. Deep inside, though, he knew how shocked and helpless they must be feeling. They had no clue what to do either.

It was Sean who finally piped up after what was turning into a rather awkward silence. "Well, then, we'll just have to get her a doctor. Birkhoff, where's the nearest hospital that has some kind of specialist?"

Mikey looked up at him, a little bit of life coming back into his eyes at the thought of an idea that actually might work. "Bone specialist. I think it might have shattered something in her shoulder."

Alex chimed in. "Yeah, we have to grab somebody. So…. Bone specialists. Where do we find those?"

It occurred to Birkhoff that he finally had something to do. He dashed over to his computers, settling in that lovely comfortable chair of his and feeling like he was actually at home and doing something productive for the first time all afternoon. _Epic typing skills, engage. _After a few seconds of trolling through Shadownet, he managed to find a guy that seemed pretty dece. Impressive degree, long resume, yadda yadda yadda, but also no criminal activity and no family. Perfect.

"Alright guys. Shadownet has coughed out one Mr. Thomas Branahan, single, no family, lovely degree in bone stuff. He works at the hospital for special surgery in New York, and his shift ends in about three hours. And….. here is his picture." He paused, allowing himself to revel in his awesomeness for just a second. "You guys better run if you want to get over there."

* * *

Michael's head was reeling. This entire day had just gone so wrong, and now they were going to go kidnap an innocent bone specialist? He glanced down at Niki, noticing no change and not sure whether he should be happy or concerned. There was no way he could leave now, not with her like this.

He looked up. He really wished Birkhoff would just stop looking so smug, but he had a feeling that the man really had no idea what to do with himself. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have smirked at what an utter dolt Birkhoff was being, but he just couldn't find any corner of himself that felt remotely happy right now.

"I'm not leaving her now, guys," he announced. He wanted to be absolutely sure that he was there when she woke up. If she woke up. _DON'T even start to think like that, Michael. Don't be an idiot. She's Nikita, she's tougher than anything. If she can nearly dislocate her shoulder just to spite you when sparring, there's no way she's going to give up because of a stupid bullet through the shoulder. _

He noticed Alex and Sean exchange a look. It occurred to him that he might like to know what they were conspiring about but he just ended up staring down at Nikita as he leaned against the couch. Still no change. Of course there wasn't. It had been less than a minute since he last checked. _This is my worst nightmare, _he thought, gazing down at her.

A cool hand touched his and he looked up, startled, straight into Alex's blue eyes.

"Hey, she's going to be okay, Michael. Why don't you and Sean go grab the doctor? I think you need to get out of her, take a break. I can watch her, don't worry. I'll call you the second anything changes."

He wanted to argue, so badly, but really, she did have a point. He thought he would go crazy if he spent the next three hours pacing and worrying and doing nothing. And so he agreed.

They were going to do this. They were going to make it. And she had to, just, HAD to be okay.

* * *

Roan started recalculating the situation the second he positively identified the one carrying Nikita off as Michael and began plotting his next course of action.

_Idiot_, he thought, _so scared for her that he can't even bother to clean up a major threat. _Fear. He wondered what it was like. If he'd ever known, he'd definitely forgotten by now.

Course of action: Pursuit improbable due to restrictions imposed by medical condition. Next move: reacquire vision to neutralize that disadvantage. Then obtain medical attention.

He heard a door slam, somewhere far off in the warehouse. Excellent. Things were going even better than he'd hoped. He felt a small smile creep onto his face, more out of reflex than anything else. Gaining advantages from the mistakes of others was always one of his favorite things to do.

He opened his eyes a crack, and identified his glasses as the blurry objects a few feet away. He extended an arm, and put them back on. Few things in his life were constant, and elements in the dangerous game he and Percy played were ever-changing, but he had had this pair of glasses as long as he could remember. Good. Dependability is good.

He analyzed his thought processes and came to the conclusion that they were dulled by blood loss, his most prevalent weakness at the current moment. Obtaining medical treatment should be his next course of action.

He rose to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his abdomen. He internalized. It really didn't hurt, if he allowed himself to analyze it critically, he had felt far worse pains in his life. He pulled out his phone and typed in a short search to obtain the location of the nearest hospital. It just so happened that the center for special surgery was a few blocks away. Perfect.

In his current condition, it would take longer than necessary, so: Logical course of action: obtain medical supplies from surrounding area, stop bleeding and minimalize damage. Then seek further medical assistance. After assessing situation further, contact Percy.

_Nikita has not escaped me yet._

**So…. How is it? I'm really enjoying the whole writing-something-that somebody-actually-reads thing. It's rather nice. Sorry about the little wait. I'll try to work on Chapter three... Or should I? ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**All the positive feedback has really given me motivation to write. Thank you all so much. I seriously do love you, you have no idea. **

Alex sat by Nikita's bedside, feeling numb. Or really, she crouched on the floor by the couch where Michael had gently laid Nikita. Nobody had been willing to take the risk of moving her.

This whole day, it was just… impossible. From fighting and flirting with Sean, to watching the woman who had saved her life more times than she could count slowly slip between her fingers? _Another day to add to my nightmares. _Sometimes she wondered if she had slipped into a coma or something as a little girl, because her life seemed both too horrible and too wonderful to be true. Because really, what are the chances of losing your entire family, your life, and some essential part deep in your soul only to find a new family, a new purpose, and a new future?

Nikita really did have a knack for defying the odds.

She sighed. She didn't really know if she could handle being reminiscent right now. _Stupid mother figures. Why do we always lose them first? _She had to remind herself that Katya was still alive, that Nikita wasn't really her mother, but she may as well be. Nikita had been more constant and stable and supportive than anyone in the past few years of her life. Which really did speak volumes as to how crazy her life was.

It had sort felt like this, lying underneath a bed watching as her father was shot. Sitting here watching Nikita slowly fade was almost worse than that. When it wasn't so instantaneous, it felt less shocking, and it really shouldn't. It was slower, and she had time to think it through and react. And there was nothing more she could do than keep the wound clean, give Nikita occasionally shots of painkiller to prepare for the unlikely chance she woke up, and wait for Sean and Michael to come back with the doctor. And it was slowly killing her inside.

_HomeQuarters will never be home again if we lose our mother._

* * *

She felt herself fading in and out of the red and the black. She wasn't sure which way was up and which way was down, or where she was, or how long she had been floating in the sea of red and the ocean of black, and sometimes even her name eluded her. It felt like she was always reaching for something just beyond her reach, longing to wake up, longing to escape the cloud of red pain that overwhelmed her mind. Sometimes she dreamed, convoluted and twisted nightmares where the world was crumbling around her. Other times she was at home with her family, but their faces seemed hidden, as if there was a veil between her new world and theirs. All she really was sure of, in the end, was that the red was pain. Bright, searing, unequaled pain. The prick of the needle in her arm brought the black, gave her blessed respite from the red.

Ever since the black faded for the first time and the red overtook her, they had given her a few pricks of the needle. Sometimes, the black came on its own, swallowing her tired mind and offering to take her away from the hurt of the red forever. She wanted, so badly, to descend into the black. But something held her back. She knew what it was at times, but then the red came again, shattering her defenses and stealing her reasons, shaking her will and destroying her fragile consciousness until all that was left was the red and one word. _Please_. Sometimes the red was dormant for a second, even for a blessed minute, when she was flowing out of the black into the red. Those were the times she allowed herself to repeat The Words over and over and over in her head. _I am Nikita and the red is pain. The black is sleep. I am Nikita and the red is pain. The black is sleep. _Sometimes she added little snippets, things she caught before the red engulfed them again. _I am loved. _That was one of her favorites, although she never was able to hold on to the memory of the person or people who had told her that.

The black came more often now than it had at first. Most of the time she did not need the prick of the needle. It would be so easy to sleep. Far too easy. Maybe she should. She let herself drift, finding there was a grey, for the first time, a grey where the pain could no longer find her. It was too much, too hard to think and far too hard to breathe. The grey was the nothing. The grey was the nothing and spiraled down through the nothing, away from the red and into the endless, welcoming, beckoning black. She thought of a word, before she descended into the grey, a word that she was sure had been a reason to fight the oncoming tide. _Michael. _But in the grey, Michael was just a word like any other. And words were an unnecessary luxury in the nothingness. And so she let it slip away.

She had another thought. _Goodbye. _She did not know what it meant, but before she had time to really ponder it properly she felt herself truly fall into the grey. She spiraled down, closer and closer, and closer to the black. And then the black engulfed her, and she took one more shuddering breath.

* * *

Birkhoff sat at the computer, attempting to pay attention to whatever Mikey and Sean were doing, and drinking his fifth can of Red Bull. If Niki was awake, she probably would be teasing him about trying to set the world record for most energy drinks consumed in one hour, and he'd most likely be explaining that his genius hacker brain required large amounts of caffeine to function. Hell, he usually did manage to find something to argue about. _ Note to self: When Niki wakes up, try not to be a sarcastic douche to her for an entire week. Or maybe a couple days. _But he knew Niki understood. She enjoyed witty banter almost as much as he did. She was much better at the whole "emotional moments" thing, though. Take right now, for example. She would know what to say to comfort Alex if it were Seanny-boy, dying on a couch.

He realized that Sean had been asking him for a confirmation of the time that the Branahan bone-specialist dude's shift ended for about two minutes now. Jeez. First Mikey, then him. Apparently, it was international space-out-on-the-coms day. When Niki woke up, she was going to laugh her ass off at how ridiculous both of them had been. But that was Niki for you. She laughs, she cries, she gets angry, she argues and she never, ever, ever, EVER gives up. Especially if she's arguing. Or on a mission. Okay, maybe just always.

He talked to Sean for a few minutes, letting the automatic data-whisperer part of his brain take over. It was easier than worrying all the time. He must have told Sean the right thing, because he shut up. Good. That dude was WAY to honorable for his blood. He missed Niki calling him Boy Scout. It definitely suited him.

Then he heard the tentative voice behind him. It was Alex. _Well, no freaking duh, ShadowWalker. Niki's passed out and there's nobody on the coms right now. _Then he registered what Alex was saying.

"Nikita? Nikita! NIKITA! Oh, god, oh, my god, oh, god oh god oh god oh god."

He scrambled up out of his chair, noting for the second time that day that jumping up out of rolling chairs was really not a good idea. Dashing over to the couch, he saw why Alex was panicking. Niki appeared to have stopped breathing.

This, of course, made Birkhoff have a small inner panic attack and freeze up while Alex started administering CPR. _Oh, holy flying pancakes from hell, what do I do. Come on bro, be cool. Come on. Be awesome. Oh, shit. I'm panicking. Need to work on that. Ooo, girl on girl. Kind of hot. No, wait, CPR, not hot. Oh, shit. CPR. On Niki. Not good, not good, really very not good. Never was good at CPR. Better at computers, mocking recruits, and occasionally sparring and kicking them in the balls. _Maybe there was a real reason he was the computer whisperer and everybody else took the dealing-with-people-and-missions thing.

He had no idea what the hell to do with himself. So, of course, he proceeded to stand there like a complete idiot.

And wait, as he watched Alex frantically work.

* * *

Michael felt himself panicking a little bit. Birkhoff had given Sean a vague answer about what time the guy they were tracking was supposed to show up in the employee parking lot of the center for special surgery, where he and Sean were currently staked out. After that, he must have forgotten to turn his com off transmit mode. They could hear him slurping down another Red Bull for a few minutes, and then heard a large crash that sounded like Birkhoff falling out of a rolling chair, and then for the next few minutes he heard nothing but Birkhoff whispering, "oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," to himself.

He tried to reassure himself. _Alex promised to call the second anything changed. _But he found that he couldn't. The only reason that Birkhoff would be freaking like that was if Nikita had crashed and… then Alex wouldn't have been able to call because she would have been giving CPR. _Dammit. I knew I shouldn't have gone with Sean on this one._

Of course, at the exact moment he was going to tell Sean that they needed to go grab the stupid doctor no matter how many face recognition traps they triggered and then get the hell home, Roan walked into the parking lot, casually pressing a spot on his abdomen and clutching a rather nasty looking gun.

_Dammit. _

_Hang on, Niki, we're coming. If the Terminator doesn't get us first._

* * *

**I thought I'd copy Nikita and give you the mother of all cliffhangers. But hey. I updated quickly. Sue me.**

**So... how is it?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh, my goodness. The season finale. No words. Except perhaps asfjkl; and fwapoey. **

**So, here we go! Chapter 4! Woop!**

**Oh, also, I forgot to do a disclaimer. First fanfic and all. I totally own Nikita, I'm just not allowed to tell you because the confidentiality agreement and everything. (Heh heh. I wish.) **

Roan had found that completing missions for Percy were most difficult when he had to move through crowds of people. Constantly analyzing and re-analyzing every single person who passed by and every street corner was exhausting. The blood loss from the bullet wound in his gut clouded his mind and made the simple act of walking down the city street difficult. _Street corner. If attacked: Immediate cover behind newspaper boxes. Analysis of humans: Harmless businessmen, family on holiday, potential threat: ex-military. _He took a few steps forward, past the newspaper boxes, past the businessmen, past the ex-servicemen. None of them took any note of him. _Ridiculous, what people do not see when they are not looking. _If he kept his head down and made sure that the disfigured side of his face was against the shop window, no one gave him a second glance

The homeless man on the corner gave him pause, as it afforded enemies far too many opportunities for disguises. _Objective: Destination is ahead on the left. Proceed with currently plotted course of action._

Once he got to the center for special surgery, it was imperative that he enter undetected without causing an undue fuss. No questions asked. He never would give them real answers anyway, so what was the point of pointless interrogation? A hospital stay was not in his plan and it would give Percy no advantage to lose his most effective asset while he was forced into an unnecessary "recovery" like a normal human.

He had been shot, seen people shot, and shot many people in his lifetime. He had even treated some of them. That is, he saved the few that still had a viable purpose to Percy's mission. The other ones were not so fortunate.

He only required medical supplies, and going back to Division would take far too long. If Nikita and Michael hadn't gotten what they came for, they would be back. And he would be waiting. Pure and simple. Logical.

He made it to the parking lot, and immediately identified the employee entrance. He saw a surgeon coming out just as he walked in. Excellent. Having proper identification and uniform made everything easier. Impersonating a less important figure like a nurse would be more rational, but there was always a chance of being called in to help a doctor. Plus, this surgeon was leaving, which meant that there was no reason for anyone to note his absence.

He moved determinedly towards his new target, hand casually pressed to the tender spot on his stomach, already reaching for his gun.

* * *

Alex concentrated harder than she ever had in her entire life. Why did she always end up rescuing her mothers? _Maybe it's because they rescued you first._

She counted.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_Check for a pulse. Please, dear God, please, let there be a pulse, something._

_Nothing yet. _

_Screw you, God. _

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15_

_Breath one, breath two_

_Check for a pulse._

* * *

Michael froze immediately, knowing that Roan's keen eyes would be instantly drawn to any movement in the parking lot. He slowly reached for his gun, two feet away, hardly daring to breathe.

Sean, sitting in the passenger seat, also reached for his gun.

But his eyes weren't trained on Roan.

They were trained on the surgeon that they had come to find, the only one that they were absolutely sure would know what he was doing with Nikita's injuries and the only one that they were sure had no family. Of course, he had chosen this exact moment to walk out the door. And of course, he was fumbling in his pockets for his car keys, so he didn't see Roan approaching.

_Dammit. Roan's heading right for him. _

There was no alternative now. If this surgeon died, it would take precious minutes that Nikita probably did not have to find a new person who could get the job done. They would have to attack Roan.

_We can manage it, especially while he's injured. He's still only human. We have to manage it. For her._

"Dammit," he muttered to Sean. "We need to get out there."

Sean's only reply was the loading of his gun and the gentle creak of a slowly opening car door.

* * *

When he had heard the sounds of Alex panicking on the coms, Sean had wanted to run straight home. He knew Michael had too, for an entirely different reason. Nikita had been tough but fair, honest, and even kind to him, but he would not be completely devastated by her death. Michael, on the other hand, would probably go completely haywire.

He found himself wishing that it was Alex here on the mission with him. At least he could be sure that she always had his back. But with a small grimace, he reminded himself that he would be spending the entire mission both worrying about her and plotting the most creative new way to ask her out. Not really the kind of distraction you need when you're trying to take on Roan.

_Well, at least she swears beyond 'Dammit.' Is that really __all__ Michael is capable of saying?_

He kept his eyes trained on the entrance, steeling himself to the possibility of having to knock Michael out to get him home safely if Nikita didn't make it. From the way Alex had been freaking, Nikita had probably stopped breathing.

A man walked out. Sean quickly checked it against the image he had stored on his phone of the surgeon they were supposed to be finding.

_Gotcha. Mr. Branahan, prepare for an interesting day._

He was about to tell Michael, when he noticed the other man slowly reaching for his gun, as if he made any sudden movements everything would explode.

And that was when he saw Roan rapidly approaching their target.

_Oh, great. Here we go. _

He was moving towards the door even before Michael told him to go.

* * *

Thomas Branahan was not having a good day. First of all, nobody really seemed to appreciate his genius. Honestly, though, that wasn't anything new. It also explained why he couldn't hold down a girlfriend. But between shattering his third coffee pot in a month, and being 25 minutes late to work because of the stupid line at the stupid Starbucks, and accidently slicing his finger when cleaning his scalpel, it had been a pretty lousy day.

_Now, where on earth are those stupid car keys? _

To be sure, Mr. Thomas Branahan knew his way around a human body blindfolded, and he could perform a perfect surgery at two in the morning, running only on coffee.

But it was currently three in the afternoon, it seemed he had been working continuously for a ridiculously long time, and his car keys were currently eluding him.

Mr. Thomas Branahan was currently so self-absorbed that he failed to notice the large neon yellow-and-pink sign across the way that was currently advertising a Pepto Bismol pink Jacuzzi with some free HD sunglasses thrown in.

He noticed only the excellent quality of his imported leather shoes, and the rather annoying depth of the pocket where he put his car keys.

So, of course, the two converging assassins and the Navy Seal, all armed and dangerous, escaped the surgeon's notice.

* * *

Nikita stepped into the black, finally feeling the last vestiges of the red slipping from her mind. She found the black was not simply an ocean as she had previously thought, it had stairways and levels. She heard the voices swirling around her. Some of them she knew, and some of them she did not.

A great light shone through the blackness, illuminating the shadowy figures all around her.

But then another voice cut through the red, the grey, and the black-that-was-not-truly black, and she recognized it.

It was not so much a voice, she realized, as a hand. She felt the hand grab onto her, latching onto her arm and dragging her upwards no matter how forcefully she tried to resist. But the black was light, it was liquid, it was everything and it was nothing. She had nothing to push off of, no way to give herself any leverage.

She squirmed against the firm grip, but the hand felt familiar, somehow. She almost could taste the name upon her tongue, when she was pulled into the grey once again, and lost it to the void.

She swirled through the grey, spiraling slowly upwards towards the red. Sometimes she would fall down, ever so little. But the hand was resolute, it refused to let her go no matter how much she wished that it would. She could not see so much as sense the red above her, and her mind shrank from the prospect of the pain that awaited her.

But then the red overtook her once again. She delved into the pain, feeling it rip through her consciousness once more.

* * *

_Was that…. A breath? Holy __crap, __Alex did it!_

Birkhoff let out a long shuddering sigh. He realized that he had been holding his breath for as long as he could remember.

_Probably wouldn't be good if I fainted. Fainting isn't particularly badass. _

But it didn't really matter how cool he looked right now, though, cuz Alex sure looked way to beat to be admiring his awesomeness, and Niki was back.

In the end, if Niki was back, life was good. She might have f*cked up the entire world, for all he cared, she was still the most beautiful person he had ever met, inside and out.

Of course, expressing that lovely kind of mushiness in front of Alex wasn't going to earn him any macho points, and eloquently expressing his feelings for Niki definitely wouldn't earn him bro points with Mikey.

_Oh, crap. Mikey. _

_Well, I totally didn't break the bros-before-hoes deal, right there. Way to go, genius, abandoning two guys on a mission. _

_Although... plenty of delicious opportunities for sarcastic comebacks, coming up. _

_I'm gonna need some nachos if I'm going to have to deal with that. _

But just as he was about to start scrounging around in the cabinets for some chips that weren't too Nikita-veggie-healthy or too disgustingly old, he heard the crackle of the coms from his computer.

He sighed.

_Ah, the call of duty. Seriously dude, no waiting for my nachos? No?_

But he smiled as he headed back over to his computer. Because he was probably about to do some awesome hacker stuff, because Niki was alive for now, and because he was about to argue with Michael. Hey, what's not to smile about?

His smile lasted right up until Mikey said Roan.

_Holy freakin' llamas. The Terminator's back online. _

**So….. How is it so far? Do you like where this is going? SORRY SORRY SORRY for taking a bit to update. Finals start on Thursday, so my life is a bit crazy right now. 3 BTW, you guys kill me with your reviews. I freaking love you all. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, everyone, first of all: I apologize. I know it's been a while, but exams and my birthday and other things in general finally caught up to me. Hope it lives up to your expectations as always! Let me know? I'm kind of slightly addicted to reviews. Oh, really, who isn't? **

Michael and Sean strode across the parking lot as quickly as they could without running. If they wanted to save the surgeon now, there was no way to avoid alerting Roan to their presence. _Although, _Michael thought, _a good fight with Roan might be just what I need right now. _He hadn't been able to think straight since Niki went down and the constant worrying was beginning to wear him down. The adrenaline of a fight with a worthy opponent would help to focus, and if they had ever had an opportunity to attack Roan at his weakest, it was now.

Roan hadn't noticed them yet, which Michael attributed to the blood loss. _Good sign. If he's impaired enough by the blood loss to be unobservant, then the two of us should be able to kick some major ass right now. _He glanced to the side to confirm Sean was running about parallel to his position, and nodded to himself. Maybe this was going to be routine after all.

* * *

Alex sat back, running her hands through her hair. She had been in shootouts and had seen people die, good people, people who deserved to live, people who deserved to be saved. But through all of her life, almost nothing had scared her more than the last ten minutes. _Thank GOD I didn't try to become a doctor. Having someone's life completely in my hands? Not so good. _

Nikita had been breathing regularly again for the past five minutes, and there was no indication that she was going to go into another meltdown soon. That was good. If Nikita had crashed again, she didn't know if she would be able to handle it or if her head would just explode from the pressure. She stroked the other woman's forehead gently, wondering what visions were swirling through her head. She wondered if it hurt, where Nikita was. _Should I give her more painkillers? I don't want to go overboard…. Although, if she wakes up, a really loopy Nikita would probably be funnier than a really loopy Sean. What if it shocks her system?_

She decided to just go with it, and quickly administered the clear liquid. _I wouldn't want her to wake up and be pissed cuz she was in pain and I was sitting on my ass debating whether painkiller would be good or not. _

Alex looked up from Nikita's inert form, scanning the room to see where on earth Birkhoff had got himself to. Her eyes found him sitting at his computer as usual, muttering something to himself. She narrowed her eyes, peering at the computer screens, trying to see what was on them from a distance. Finally, she gave up, standing and walking over to stand behind him in order to get a better view of the video feed.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Michael and her Sean, walking towards Roan and the surgeon guy that they had been going to find.

_Oh, Jesus. Can't we catch a break on this frickin' mission?_

The hacker and the Russian watched helplessly as the three men moved inexorably toward each other.

* * *

Percy was not having a particularly good day. He was running a couple of side missions, of course, but his main focus had been on Operation Blackbird, the exchange of rifles at the warehouses. A minor arms dealer had somehow gotten his hands on two crates of the most advanced rifles he had yet seen on the open market, and Percy was never one to pass up on an opportunity like that.

He was unaccustomed to Roan failing him on an Operation, but then again, everyone has off days, and Nikita is rather skilled at showing up at just the wrong moment. He was not overly concerned that Roan hadn't checked in yet. Percy assumed he was merely finishing the mission.

_Perhaps something good will come out of today after all. _

_It had better. _

_Or my most faithful operative may very well turn into my most expendable._

* * *

Roan analyzed the target ahead of him, focusing his energy completely on the small, slightly chubby surgeon. _Not physically dominant, dark patches under eyes suggest sleep deprivation or long hours, easy to neutralize. _Then, two rapidly moving objects in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned, cursing the glasses for impairing his peripheral vision. His eyes widened slightly, and he stopped walking. Michael and Sean were striding rapidly across the parking lot, guns drawn, looking determined. He quickly evaluated his own condition, and theirs. _Myself: Gun, halfway full. Bullet wound in abdomen, blood loss. Enemies: Full rounds of ammunition, neither of them appear wounded or even doubtful. Conclusion: Defeat or capture imminent in most likely situation. _Unless he could somehow make two perfect kill shots before his two attackers raised their guns, he was about to be captured or killed.

He could not remember the last time he had concluded that he was going to lose a fight no matter what he did. Helplessness was a sensation that now seemed singularly strange to him, and he did not react well to it. The last time he had been helpless, he had lost everything that had once seemed dear to him, and it had brought him to this life. That was one thing he and Michael had in common, though he never would have admitted the reason to anyone, least of all himself. He had always had the capacity to be cruel, but devastation had sharpened him and drained him, had turned him into Percy's lapdog. Once, a portion of him had hated what he had become, but all emotion had been buried so long ago. A heart shattered by loss is easier to bury than to mend.

He glanced from Sean to Michael and back again, and then raised his gun. If he was going to go down, he might as well try to ensure that they would kill him. He respected Nikita's ability and admired her capabilities, but being captured by her was not something strategically advantage for his physical or mental condition and could be potentially detrimental to Percy's operation.

Not that he would ever allow her to break him.

Not that he would ever allow anyone to break him, to see inside his soul.

He felt the bullet pass through his leg, then his arm, and then his head hit the pavement and he knew no more.

* * *

Mr. Thomas Branahan was becoming really rather very confused. He had been rummaging for his car keys, looking forward to a perfectly average afternoon, some food, and then sleep. Lots and lots and lots of sleep.

He had been startled from his reverie by the sound of two gunshots, and he looked up to the most peculiar sight that had greeted him all week. Which was really saying something, considering that he had operated on a middle aged man who had fallen off a ladder and managed to get one of his son's toy trucks lodged into a bone in his upper arm.

Two secret-service type blokes, looking very enigmatic and mysterious in dark leather and drawn guns, were walking across the parking lot, and appeared to be heading directly for him. This was exceptionally puzzling in itself, but Mr. Branahan's tired mind could not bring itself to be particularly perturbed by anything at this point, even when the two dangerous looking persons had just shot somebody in the employee parking lot. One of men walked up to him, looked him in the eye, and asked him, "Are you Thomas Branahan?"

Astounded, he managed to stammer one single, "Y… yes," before the man nodded and whacked him in the head with the butt of his pistol.

His last thought before sinking into unconsciousness happened to be _I wonder if we can stop at McDonald's on the way…_

* * *

Michael saw Roan turn, and saw his eyes widen almost comically, like a deer caught in the headlights. _Now that's one look I never thought I'd get to see on that man's face. _Then something… determined crept back onto Roan's features, and he raised his gun, but he was moving slowly, probably due to the blood loss.

He did not even hesitate before pulling the trigger, smirking slightly in satisfaction when his two shots went perfectly through Roan's leg and arm, effectively incapacitating him. He rushed over to the fallen man after he hit the ground, confirming that he was unconscious. Michael crouched down. _Well, whaddaya know. So he IS human, after all. Now, what are we gonna do with him? _They couldn't just leave him here, but it seemed a waste to simply kill him. So, Michael lifted him fireman style over his shoulder, and turned to see if Sean had managed to grab the surgeon.

He turned just in time to see Sean whack the surgeon over the head with his gun, and then catch him before he hit the ground. The two men looked at each other, breathing heavily.

They turned back towards the car, each carrying someone over their shoulder.

Almost as soon as he closed the car door, Michael hit the button on his com. "Birkhoff, what the hell happened over there? Is Niki okay?"

They were both slightly surprised to hear Alex's tired voice over the intercom. "Yeah, she's fine. She was in trouble for a minute there, but she's fine. Did you guys get the surgeon?"

Michael let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "We got him, and Roan. See you soon."

He turned around to back out of the parking lot, allowing himself a small smirk at the sight of Roan buckled into the back seat, his hands cuffed and duct tape over his mouth, head lolling like a rag doll. The surgeon was much the same, minus the cuffs and the tape.

_God, I hope that guy knows what he's doing. _

_Come on, Niki, hold on. We're coming back. And we brought a little present._

* * *

Birkhoff realized that his mouth was hanging open, and promptly closed it before he started drooling like an idiot. He glanced over at Alex and noticed with amusement that she had the same expression.

_Hey, it isn't everyday a guy gets to watch the most freakin' indestructible man on the planet get taken down. _

Mikey's voice came in over the coms, sounding slightly desperate. Oh, yeah, right. He didn't know what had happened to Niki yet. Alex answered him smoothly, and then Alex and Birkhoff looked at each other.

"Did…. Did they just get Roan?" Alex asked, shock and a bit of awe sparkling in her blue eyes.

"It looks like it, babe," Birkhoff quipped, rewinding the video feed to the exact moment where Roan got shot. "Terminator's going to try and take our boys down, and then BAM, one, BAM, two, get owned, my friend."

_Well, that was unexpected. _

He twirled a little bit in his chair, absently, thinking. He ended up staring at Nikita anyway.

_Hang on Supergirl, help is on the way. _

**Okay, I have to give Florence and the Machine about half of the credit on this fanfiction. I don't know if I would be able to write without it. Literally.**

**So…. How is it? (I wasn't going to have a Birkhoff part in this one, but then I just couldn't resist. You're welcome.)**

**Oh, and how do you like Roan's little back story bit? I've always felt that he needed something... and then he DIED. :'( STOP MESSING UP MY FANFICTION YOU WONDERFUL SHOW! JUST COME BACK ALREADY!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I am so, so, incredibly sorry about the update wait. I went to camp for a week and have had absolutely no time to write, and I had to rewrite this entire chapter anyway because I have a hard time writing on my iPod instead of the computer. Anyway, thank you for sticking with the story. I love your face. :)**

Sean sat in the front seat of the Kia, looking from their prisoners to Michael to the speedometer and back again. For once, they had actually managed to capture Roan and protect the person they were supposed to, which was definitely a first for him. As long as he had been with Nikita's little group, the standard protocol for completing a mission was have-a-plan-then-watch-it-fall-apart-and-make-something-up-as-you-go. It had worked pretty well so far, and today was looking to be no exception.

However, Michael was still looking extraordinarily high-strung, which would explain why their speed had rarely dipped below 90 since they left the center for special surgery. He had lost count of the number of blown stop signs and blared horns, but at least they were on a fairly deserted road now. It _really_ wasn't a good idea to let a pissed-off Michael drive in the city.

Sean considered telling Michael to slow down, but distracting him didn't really seem like a good idea. Although, they kind of were a safety concern for every single person on the road. And he didn't even want to think what would happen if a cop tried to pull them over.

Almost as if on cue, a siren started to wail as they whizzed by an empty parking lot and a pair of flashing lights slid into the roadway behind them.

_Oh, great. Just what we needed. Hello, officer. Yes, please ignore the two prisoners and large number of guns in our car, no, I didn't realize I was going 90 in a 55 zone._

Sean looked over at Michael, wondering how the other man would react. Michael was both military and underground spy agency, law-abiding and law-shattering, and Sean was about to tell him to speed up, when Michael did it anyway without Sean's advice.

Sean stared out the front windshield, gripping the edges of the seat with white knuckles, hoping they didn't crash into someone and wondering where on earth Michael had learned to drive.

* * *

Birkhoff lounged back in his usual chair, drinking Red Bull and stuffing his face with the saltiest chips he could find. He had given up on actually trying to eat real food, and hey. He doesn't get as many opportunities to eat loads of junk food anymore, not living with Niki, who he had to admit was kind of a health freak. Doing freakin' yoga and eating all-natural? That is _seriously _not normal. Especially for a dude who isn't used to living with people so… healthy.

A grim sort of smile flitted across his face when he realized that he had just thought of Niki as healthy. _Well, she does EAT healthily, when she's awake, she's just sort of lying on the couch with a bullet wound in her shoulder right now. _

The smile died as quickly as it had come, and he glanced over at Niki and Alex. Apparently, Alex had decided that the best way to get Niki was recover was to completely neglect her own health and sit there, holding Niki's hand and barely moving for hours on end. He threw a chip at the back of her head, and she turned in annoyance, her eyes shooting daggers.

"You gonna eat something or just sit there looking dramatic, sweetheart? I mean, you look good doing it, don't get me wrong, but…"

Alex sighed, looking tired as a little bit of softness crept back into her face. "Birkhoff… I'm fine, really. I just… I need to sit with her until she wakes up, okay? I just have to."

Birkhoff nodded, then proceeded to stuff more chips into his own mouth and chew loudly. Alex crinkled her nose in disgust, turning back to Niki and gently rubbing the back of her hand.

The crackle of the coms that meant either Sean or Michael was about to ask something filled his ear. He finished his mouthful of chips, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his chair back up to the computer.

Sean's voice came in. "Birkhoff…"

Birkhoff cut him off. He needed to be a bit of a smartass right now, to distract himself from being too mopey. Mopey guys are most definitely not cool, and he is definitely not one of them. "Yes, Seanny-boy? What's got your kilt in a knot now?"

Sean sighed, then said, "Cut the crap, Birkhoff. We've got a cop on our tail. Can you, I don't know, redirect him or something?"

Now it was Birkhoff's turn to sigh. _Does EVERYONE think I'm psychic or something? _"Well, I could help you if I knew where you were or the number on the car."

He could hear rustling noises as Sean presumably looked around to find a street sign. "We're on… I think that said Willow? And we just passed President Street, and now Bourbon parkway, and now College Avenue, and…"

Birkhoff's eyebrows shot up. "Dude, how fast are you going?"

More rustling noises. He must be checking the speedometer now. "Uh… 103. I guess."

Birkhoff's eyebrows continued their ascent. "And MIKEY is driving? Holy crap, man."

Michael's voice came in, then. He sounded fairly aggravated and like he was concentrating on something else, which, considering how fast they were going, he probably was.

"Birkhoff, CAN YOU GET RID OF THE COP?"

His fingers already flying, Birkhoff delved into the police records, the security cameras, and the radio frequencies simultaneously. Hacking this simple didn't even require thinking for him anymore; it was just pure instinct and feel.

A few seconds later, Birkhoff had the live security feed, and felt himself wishing that he was out there, racing a cop down the street, when he remembered that he really didn't enjoy getting shot at or crashing into trees.

He identified the cop, and then hacked his radio. The grim smile was back, but he looked a little more satisfied than he had before.

"Got him."

_Bitch, you are mine._

* * *

The blaring sirens behind the car and the unfriendly sounds that the engine was making roused Roan from unconsciousness. He carefully cracked open his eyes, immediately taking in his surroundings. _High level of speed: Hostile vehicle in pursuit. Current status: restrained, not adequately. _They had been remarkably lax considering the skill level of their captive. Even though his arms were bound, he had just been unconscious for twenty minutes at least and he had a bullet wound in his gut, shoulder, and knee, he was definitely still a force to be reckoned with. He locked away the pain in the quiet little corner of his mind where he held things that he could not ignore but did not want to deal with. Most of his past was stashed up there, and a lot of emotions were too. It was a very useful corner, but there were cobwebs gathering on the handle. He did not look back at those things very often. Yanking his now pain-free mind back to his current situation, he began to plot.

_Handcuffs in front, arms still usable as a club, movement restrained by seatbelt: mere annoyance, gagged: not immediate problem. Imminent car chase involving officer in recently upgraded vehicle: evasion unlikely if driver (identified hostage: Michael) continues current course of action._ He had an advantage in that his captors were currently preoccupied with evading the police officer and not crashing the car.

_Plan of action: utilize pursuer to escape captors. Method: neutralize driver. Commence immediately._

He began to coil the muscles in his arms and legs, preparing to spring forward.

His cold grey eyes, fully opened now, never left his target: the back of Michael's head, right in front of him.

* * *

Michael stared out the front windshield, hardly daring to blink, his hands gripping the steering wheel as though the world would end if he let go. He had driven this fast before, on occasion, but very rarely, and never in a situation where they were both being chased by a cop and weaving around the occasional car unlucky enough to be on the same roadway as them.

It was definitely an exhilarating experience, if you ignored the fact that you could die at any second and that there were people who were depending on you not to crash the car and not to get pulled over. He wished Birkhoff would hurry up.

_It really does Nikita absolutely no good at all if we crash and kill everybody, especially the doctor. Although, I don't think she'd be too heartbroken over Roan. Please, just… don't let her wake up without me there. _

His could feel his eyes darting back and forth extremely quickly, trying to really _see _the roadway before it zipped by. It was difficult. He knew he must look slightly idiotic and more than a little bit panicky, but couldn't bring himself to care, since the little part of his brain trying to tell him that was shoved back by the rest of his mind, focusing on the roadway, focusing on getting home to Nikita.

That was when he felt a blinding pain on the top of his head, one blows, two…

His second to last thought before he sank into the darkness was _Oh, dear Lord, we're all going to die. Crap. _

Then it occurred to him that those were not very creative last thoughts, and four words raced through his mind.

_Nikita, I love you._

And then he knew no more.

* * *

Birkhoff hacked into the radio frequency of the police car, and got his best, deep, listen-to-me-I'm-authoritative voice out.

"Officer James, you are ordered to cease pursuit of the vehicle."

After a few seconds, an angry voice growled back. "This is Officer Kelly, Officer James is currently engaged in pursuit. With all due respect, sir, this driver is a menace. I don't give a damn what you tell us to do."

Birkhoff was starting to panic slightly, on the inside. He could feel Alex's curious eyes boring into the back of his head and tried not to let his anxiety show. "Officer, you are being ordered to cease pursuit and return to the station. Your employment will be terminated if you choose not to comply."

A low grumbling sound came from the other end. Birkhoff waited in suspense.

"No."

And then the radio signal cut out.

_Damn it all. That was decidedly un-awesome. And I really, really, hate apologizing to people, especially Mikey and Sean. _

_If they didn't crash or get pulled over by these freakin' cops. _

_Papa's out of the house, boys. You're on your own on this one._

* * *

Alex's ears perked up as soon as she heard Birkhoff call Sean's name, in a manner of speaking. She giggled quietly to herself about the little kilt joke that Birkhoff had made, but then sobered when Birkhoff went to work immediately. If Nerd was focused and working, then something serious and work-worthy was evidently going on.

_If that doctor gets delayed anymore… God, what if Nikita doesn't make it? What would we do?_

And then another horrible thought occurred to her.

_What if Michael and Sean don't make it and she does? What the hell am I supposed to tell her when she wakes up?_

She shook her head slightly, willing the bad thoughts out of her head. Papa had always said that you need to be strong in your head and your heart or your help nobody. She had learned that he was not always right, but now was not the time to burst out sobbing.

Her eyes bored into the back of Birkhoff's head as if she could read his thoughts.

_Just for once, can everything turn out all right? I think we deserve a mission where no one loses anything or anyone, just for once. _

_Please. _

_Dear God. _

_Please._

* * *

**Oh, I feel ridiculously evil right now. I make you wait far, far, far too long before I update, and then I post a mildly angsty cliff-hanger. Sorry. Oh wait. I'm not. Heh heh heh. **

**And also, if you've been following the story and like the chapter, let me know by reviewing! **

**REVIEW GAME: Leave me your favorite food, favorite color, and/or favorite line from the story. I take anon reviews. But don't be anon! Let's be friends!**

**And if nobody really does that because they didn't want to read the author's note at the end, well, then, okay. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Well, I updated quickly-ish to make up for the evil cliffhanger. I'll try to update again as soon as I can, but it may be a week or so, sorry about that. **

**Many thanks to everyone who played my little review game, or who was too cool for that sort of thing and just reviewed anyway. I love you all, you seriously lift my entire week. **

**Here goes Chapter 7! **

Dr. Thomas Branahan was having a really rather interesting dream. He supposed that it could be the lack of sleep in his recent lifestyle, or perhaps he had eaten a cheeseburger before he went to bed. Never advisable, cheeseburgers before bed.

He dreamed that he was high in the atmosphere, sitting on a very fluffy and comfortable cloud, flying as the wind whipped by. Suddenly, an angry-looking dark grey cloud started chasing him. It had sirens like a police car, and was thundering angrily.

Thomas did not particularly like the mean cloud. It looked far too much like the cloud full of lightning that had killed his favorite old tree in his backyard as a child. So he encouraged his own little cloud-mobile to go faster, and faster, and faster, until they were moving so fast they could barely avoid crashing into the other cloud mobiles in the sky.

He made the mistake of peeking over the edge of his cloud at the world below. His stomach began to churn, but more importantly, he did not notice that another unfriendly looking cloud had come up beside him.

He looked up just as the second decidedly unfriendly cloud bumped into him. His cloud tipped sideways, and he desperately tried to cling to it as he slid off the edge. But the wonderful cloud that he had been soaring across the sky in just moments before turned back to water vapor in his grasp, and he slid off the edge, plummeting straight down.

He caught a glimpse of the first angry cloud, who was managing to look both surprised and annoyed.

And then his world turned into a blur of color, and he completely lost all sense of direction as he somersaulted downwards at ever-increasing speeds.

He woke just as the car veered to the right at an extremely alarming speed, and his head knocked against the window once more, sending him back to his dreams.

...

Alex was still staring at the back of Birkhoff's head.

As much as she wanted to sit by Nikita's side until she was completely sure that she would be all right, she needed to know what was going on with Sean and Michael. And judging from what Birkhoff had just been saying on the coms, the boys had police officers after them, and they were out for blood. She trusted Sean and Michael with her life, absolutely and completely, but she definitely did not trust them not to do something while being pursued by the police. After all, they were men.

Birkhoff suddenly slammed his headset down on the desk, spinning around to face her. "Damn it. I lost them."

Alex's eyes widened and she let go of Nikita's hand for the first time. "You lost them? How did that happen? Where are they? Are they alive? How-"

"Ah, ah, ah, one question at a time." He rubbed a hand through his hair, looking tired, which was absurd, considering the number of energy drinks he had consumed in the past hour alone. "Mikey and Sean have some cops on their trail, and I can't shake them. They're just going to have to be badass without me."

Alex smirked slightly at that behind her worry. Birkoff's constant ego could wear a person down, but he was the best hacker that tshe had ever met. Henwas worth it. _And if you have the right mindset, it's kind of funny._ "How far out are they?" she asked.

Birkhoff reached up and rubbed the back if his neck absently. "Well, if Mikey keeps driving as fast as he was, they'll be here in ten minutes. But I really would prefer if they didn't lead the cops right back to the new house. Getting out of dodge might take a bit. How's Niki doing?"

Alex turned, worry creeping back onto her face. "I don't know. I mean, she's not bleeding much on the outside, but we have no idea what it did inside."

Birkhoff leaned forward, his expression softening sligtly as it only did when he was going to be empathetic and thought no one would notice. "Hey, she's going to be fine, you know that, right? I mean, she's Niki. She's a freakin' force of nature. She survived Division and Gogol hunting her at the same time, and you think she's gonna let something stupid like being shot take her out? Not in my book, not by a long shot."

Alex looked down at the unconscious woman on the couch. "I hope so."

...

Roan swung as hard as he could at the top back of Michael's head. After the second blow, he was unconscious, and the vehicle swung sharply to the right, barely slowing down. Sean turned, yelling something incoherent as he tried to regain control of the vehicle. Roan let him. It was to nobody's advantage if they all crashed and died.

_Plan if action: Allow Captor B (Identified fugitive: Sean) to regain control of the vehicle. Most likely scenario: Captor B pulls vehicle over to the right. Allows pursuers to capture and arrest Captor A (Identified fugitive: Michael) and Captor B, recieve personal medical attention, contact Authority 1 (Percy), reload, resume and complete mission: obtain guns and eliminate Threat Alpha (target: Nikita)_

He closed his eyes and feigned unconsciousness as the officers screeched to a halt next to their vehicle. He heard yelling, and the slamming of car doors as an officer ran up to their window, weapon drawn.

A gruff voice began, "All right, jackass, you're under arrest for- what the?" He had spotted the prisoners and the currently unconscious driver.

He heard a few footsteps moving away from then the sound of the voice talking into the radio. "Yeah, Charlie? You might want to send an ambulance and call the FBI. You are not going to BELIEVE what we just pulled over."

The footsteps moved back over to just outside the car window again, but Roan tuned them out, assessing his own physical condition. He had not suffered injuries this severe since Threat Alpha (Nikita) had sent a missile into the house they and the Division asset known as Richard were in. His injuries then were minimal compared to the three gunshot wounds he had now.

_Situation: very nearly contained._

_..._

_I've seen a helluva lot of weird stuff over the years, but this takes the cake._

I walked back over to the silver car we had just pulled over. Leaning in, I looked down at the unconscious guy who had been driving and wondeed what had happened to him.

_Did he have a heart attack or something? It sure was mighty convenient for us. _

I looked the guy who had apparently thrown himself across from the passenger seat to grab the wheel.

_Well, I suppose I have to arrest somebody._

"Well, then, you have the right to remain silent, although you're doing pretty well with that on your own. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, then one will be provided for you. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Also, son, I'd like to remind you that you get one phone call, and I suggest you make it a good one. You understand?"

The man nodded, moving back into his own seat. He still hadn't said anything. _But I bet his mind is zooming along, trying to get out of this one._

I looked around, taking stock of our backup. _Three cars including my own, and the ambulance is on the way._

_So why do I still feel nervous?_

_..._

Sean pulled himself back into his own seat, letting out a breath for the first time since Roan had knocked Michael out. He hoped that Michael regained consciousness soon, he really didn't fancy taking on three cars of angry police officers that were supposed to be on break by himself.

_Never underestimate the rage of a cop taken from his donuts. I suppose I could just drive away..._

He looked over at Michael and their prisoners. It had been a very risky move on Roan's part, knocking out the driver, but was about to pay off. Thankfully, Michael had taken his foot off of the accelerator before the second blow, the one that had truly knocked him out.

_Either I've really got to thank him, or he's got very good reflexes. I hope he doesn't get a concussion out of this, although, I suppose we could set up our own hospital, then, with two down._

He reached down to grab the gun tucked between the seat and his door, carefully checking how much ammo was left.

_6 shots. Oh, joy. This is going to be fun._

He looked the police office who was leaning in the window, apologizing to him and all of his friends and family silently.

And then he raised his gun and shot him right between the eyes.

**I did it again, didn't I? Sorry. Evil cliffhangers! Bwa ha ha ha! And again, it might be slightly longer till I can update again. It will either be really soon or in about a week.**

**Review game part 2!**

**Leave me your pet peeve, your favorite line from this chapter, and your favorite Nikita character! **

**Or not.**

**I love your face anyway, you lovely beautiful reader, you.**


	8. Chapter 8

**All right, guys, this update is for you, since I kind of feel bad for reasons, mainly evil cliffhangers, update waits, the fact that the last chapter was short, and writing that I don't feel is my best. Although, I guess I've been pretty good with updates recently. Also, for the Anon who wished for some Nikita POV, Merry Christmas.**

**If there are weird typing errors, don't kill me, I'm writing on a tablet and I'm not used to that. I'll try to check everything as much as possible. Also, if you don't like something, please tell me.**

**Here we go with Chapter 8! **

The world had been strangely peaceful since I had risen from the grey and the white beyond it. I spent most of my time sliding in and out of the blackness. But still, every once in a while, the red came crashing over my barriers and I was sucked into it, feeling my consciousness shatter with each wave of pain.

A voice began to mutter through the red, quiet at first, but whispering and insistent. It came from a part of me I thought I had lost long ago. Some of its words I could not catch, and very few I could on to. But still it was there, ever calling __

I sometimes tuned out the muttering of whatever corner of my brain was still coherent enough to form words, but when I was in the grip of the red, the words were all I had left. _They are all that is still mine._

I had stopped resisting the pull of the red and the black long ago, and now felt as if I was sitting on a leaf, flowing and sinking and rising again in a fragile dance through a gushing stream. I could not control the red or the black or those occasional glimpses of gray. I began to repeat snatches of the whispering to myself, as a shield against the red. _Michael. Hurts. Where. Homequarters. Nikita. Running. Nerd. Strawberries. Alex. Ocean. Ow. Yoga. Family. Pain. Nutrition facts. Loss. London. Love. Guns._

And gradually, I began to build myself a life raft of words out that tiny leaf. When I was in the red, I crouched behind my shield. But something new began to happen.

I managed to draw small bits of myself back behind the shield, back from the red.

And my shield of words grew ever stronger.

If only the river would let me go.

...

Sean flinched slightly as the cop reeled over backwards. It was against everything he believed in to kill a man who was just trying to do his job and protect his country. He was a soldier, he knew how the man felt. But Nikita's war against Division was perhaps the most important cause he had ever fought for. _He gave me a clean shot, and I took it. Get it in gear, Sean, you've got at least 5 more cops out there._

There was no time for him to contemplate morals or regret killing an innocent man. He had three fugutives to get home and a... friend. _I guess Michael is my friend. That's an odd thought. Oh, geez, Sean, focus. Five bullets for five cops. Come on. You got this._

_Aim, fire, oh good, they weren't expecting that. One down, I think he might be alive, oh crap, they're shooting back, duck, you idiot. _

He ducked behind the car as the bullets whizzed over his head.

_All right, Sean, think, four bullets and four cops shooting at you. Consider your options, right, you're screwed... I wonder if they would notice if I moved around the back of the car?_

Sean inched to my right, moving towards the back of the car. He heard shouting and then a spray of bullets went over the trunk of the car.

_Okay, I'll take that as a no._

He sunk down behind the car, hearing the continued spray of bullets whistle over his head, closing his eyes and hoping, praying desperately for a way out. Nothing occured to him.

_Well, Alex, it looks like we're gonna have to have that date some other time. I hope Michael's not getting shot up too bad up there. That would be the last thing Nikita needs right now._

The bullets stopped, and he wrenched his eyes open, turning to both sides and craning his neck desperately to try and see the officers he could hear approaching from both sides.

_I might be able to get one of them... Breathe easy. Hopefully the other guy has really bad aim. Now, do I shoot the one on the left or the one on the right?_

He heard a whispered, "One, two, three..."

He tightened his finger on the trigger. _This is it._

And then he heard a spray of bullets from a new gun. _That's... That's a machine gun... who?_

And then he heard the dull thump of four bodies hitting the ground. _Poor guys. Well, I guess they'll never get those donuts now. So, a rescuer, a car, a machine gun... who!_

He heard the screech of a car stopping and light footsteps running towards him. After a second, he smiled and stood up, turning to face his rescuer, her long brown hair flying beneath her beret as she walked forward, looking very serious but also slightly relieved when he stood up.

_That's my girl._

_..._

Birkhoff sat in his favorite badass ergonomic chair, wondering how this one would play out.

Alex had charged out the door seconds after he had told her all of what had happened with Mikey and her Seanny-boy. _Watch Nikita and don't blow up the house. Psh. Really, Alex? What am I, five?_

He felt a smile creeping onto his face. _You can tell she trained with Niki. If those two don't destroy the world, they're going to smother it with motherly kindness._

He looked down at Niki's motionless form. It figured that while they were out doing their superspy thing, they left the genius computer hacker to babysit the sickie. There was nothing more boring than watching someone sleep, even if it was because they had a serious gunshot wound. And even if they were your smokin' hot best friend and fellow badass.

He took another swig of the energy drink, feeling the sugar flow into his veins, revitalizing him.

_I really am gonna have to train a lot with Mikey when he gets back to work all of this off._

Birkhoff spun around, looking at his computer to check the time. Alex wouldn't make it to Sean for another minute. Hopefully he and Mikey were doing all right against the cops.

_I could check the coms... Nah. Alex is on her way, there isn't much I can help with now. Only the newbie techies hover over good agents when they're busy shooting at people._

He checked the time again. Alex would be arriving within the next two seconds, which meant for maximum awesomeness he should drop in casually on the coms within the next minute or two. _I don't have to save their asses ALL the time._

_Niki could probably use another shot of the good stuff. I don't want to walk though... hmmm, giving unconscious women drugs or being lazy? Geez, that makes me sound like a serial killer. All right, fine, Niki, I'm coming. _

Birkhoff put his headset on and walked down to give her another shot of the painkiller. Just then, Alex's voice crackled on. "Uh, Birkhoff?"

He sighed. "What, need me to call off the dogs? I told you, these Popo weren't listening, I got nothing good to threaten them with."

"No, Birkhoff, I need you to check and wipe any security cameras and incident reports. We kind of killed or injured six cops."

Birkhoff cocked one eyebrow. "You want a good excuse and some fries with that?"

"Come on, Birkhoff. We got the surgeon and Roan, the boys are both okay although the car's sort of shot up."

Birkhoff grumbled all the way back to the computer. _It's always something. That was my favorite car, too. We should get a frequent buyer discount for the dealer at the rate we're going through cars._

After a few minutes of typing, the wipe was done.

_Just hurry up and get home already, you idiots. Awesomeness this great needs an audience._

...

Michael felt himself coming round in the back of a quickly moving car, because he was pretty sure he had been driving. _Or was it crashing? _He couldn't remember. He sat up, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

He was looking straight into the furious grey eyes of Roan, who was gagged, had his head duct taped to the back of the seat and his arms bound behind him.

Michael chuckled for the first time in days. _This is a new one. I wish Nikita was here to see it._

He felt a slight twinge of uneasiness as he thought about his girl, rubbing his eyes blearily. His head was pounding, but considering Roan had knocked him out, that was to be expected.

"Nice touch, duct taping him to the seat. Whose idea was that?"

Alex turned around in the passenger seat, grinning like a naughty child, while Sean smiled and shook his head in the driver's seat but kept his eyes on the road. "Well, you were unconscious, and we had to put you somewhere. We figured you wouldn't appreciate it if he headbutted you, so the duct tape was my idea. Handy stuff."

Michael chuckled again, looking around. Apparently they had lain him across the laps of Roan and the still unconscious doctor in the back seat.

He gestured to the doc with his head. "What about him?"

It was Sean's turn to answer. "We knocked him out again when we swerved. He should be fine. I think."

_Well, that turned out better than expected. _

_Hang on, baby, we're coming._

...

Roan allowed himself to be furious. He had analyzed the situation 3 times and had come to the same conclusion on each try.

_Current restraints present Calculation (0) opportunities to escape. Moderately emotional response acceptable in order to create a chemical response (adrenaline rush.)_

But the disadvantage to being emotional was that Roan felt humilation as well as rage. It was enough that they had thwarted his plan of escape and duct taped his head to a car seat. But had it really been necessary to lay Michael across his lap?

_It is a method of psychokogical warfare, they wish for you to experience rage and humiliation. Lock down all negative emotional response and concentrate on triggering an adrenaline rush. Contain all adverse physical responses from gunshot wounds._

_Calculation: time till Regimen withdrawal becomes a factor: 12 hours._

_Percent likelihood of rescue within time: 0.6 percent._

And for the first time in 15 years, a different kind of thought penetrated his brain.

_Damn._

**Well, I think that turned out better than the last chapter, in my opinion. What do you think? And what is your favorite animal? Also, what is your favorite Nikita fanfiction? (If it's this one, great, but I'm looking for recommendations. Mikita is lovely.)**

**Okay, just a review of any kind is lovely. A reader of any kind is lovely. A person of most kinds is lovely.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again. To any Americans out there, Happy (late) Fourth of July! May fireworks and barbecue be with you! To everybody else, happy Sunday.**

**Again, writing on a tablet so don't kill me for spelling errors or weird typing errors like another letter instead of a space. I tried to proof everything as much as possible, and I'll fix all errors when I get back to my laptop. **

**So... here we go. Chapter 9. Whew.**

Percy frowned down at the tablet that Sonya had just placed on his desk. On it, he could see the little green signal that represented the position of Roan's tracker. He waved the tech girl off without a word. She was irrelevant to this, and the rest of Division definitely did not need to know that Percy's lapdog was in a place he had no business being, namely the back of a car moving very fast in the wrong direction.

He contemplated the possibilities. Roan had not checked in for quite some time, which was unusual, but it was Nikita that they were dealing with. The former agent had developed quite the talent for doing the unexpected, which annoyed him to no end. The little stunt with the money was no exception. Although, it was definitely unlike her to be this careless. Forgetting to deactivate Roan's tracker was not the kind of mistake Nikita made.

_I suppose she could be trying to bait me, but then why is he in a car? Why wouldn't she drop him off somewhere remote and have us pick him up? She's already use the bug then release play, as far as I can tell she doesn't have anything up her sleeve. _

_It could be an honest mistake. She is only human. _

He frowned, resting his chin on his folded hands and staring pensively at his desk.

_Well, I'll send in all the disposable agents after him. I do believe it is time for some Spring Cleaning._

...

Dr. Branahan woke from a second, equally strange dream involving several purple monkeys with broken arms. But this time, there was no sudden turn to the right to send his head smashing against the window. He opened his eyes blearily, wondering if he had gone out to the bar last night with Spencer and Derek after all.

Then he realized that someone's legs were stretched out across his lap, and that he was in a car with four other people who were most definitely not Spencer and Derek. He looked down in the legs in confusion, then up at their owner. He felt a flash of recognition and the events in the parking lot came flooding back to him.

_I suppose I ought to be annoyed right now. They did kidnap me and they didn't even bother to feed me lunch! Although, I suppose they aren't really obliged to... It's not like we were on a date. Ooo... while I'm thinking about dates, I wonder if Penelope called me back or not? Probably not._

_Right. Kidnapping. Should I demand they release me and reveal their identity? That never seems to work in movies, though. _

_I should probably stop staring at the man with his legs across my lap._

For he had, he suddenly realized, been looking at the man the entire time. Suddenly feeling slightly short and out of shape, he took a deep breath, and then began his interrogation. "Hello." _No, Thomas, that was too friendly. They kidnap and shoot people. _"Could you maybe release me now, please?" _What was that? Stop being so polite! You're a Doctor, not a five year old! _"Who are you, anyway? What do you want from me?" _Okay, that was better. Come on, think! You have to have seen this in a movie somewhere! How do they escape?_

_Think! Do you have any paperclips?_

That was when the young woman in the front seat burst out laughing, and the two others gave her looks, although the one driving hid a smile. Feeling slightly offended, Thomas looked around for support, but found only the loathing glare of the other man they had captured, whose head was apparently duct taped to a car seat.

_Well, if they're going to kidnap me, they could at least be nice about it._

...

Alex listened in silence as the Doc they had picked up for Niki woke up and tried questioning them. Eventually, she couln't hold in her laughter anymore.

_He just woke up and there were strange people all around him and someone's legs on his lap and he was being ALL POLITE and then he got his tough guy act on and... just, oh, stop laughing, Michael's giving you the look, you just need some sleep._

After a few minutes, she managed to stop her giggling. Putting her innocent face on, she took a deep breath and turned back to meet Michael's glare. She shrugged her shoulders and widened her eyes, the very picture of guileless, and asked, "What?"

_Yes, I know this is serious and he just woke up from being kidnapped, but I can't help it if I'm tired and he's funny._

Michael raised his eyebrows at her, giving her his best really-Alex-do-you-have-to-do-that-now look and then turned back to their rather offended captive.

"We need you to patch someone up for us. She took a bad hit to the shoulder and we think it might have clipped a bone."

Dr. Branahan extracted his arms from underneath Michael's legs and behind the seatbelt as gracefully as possible. She saw him going into Doctor mode.

"She, you said? How old? When? Why didn't you just bring her to the hospital like a normal person? Is she conscious? Did she crash? Do you have medical supplies? Can I have a sandwich first? Is this illegal? Will you let me go home if I help you?"

Alex took a breath and wiped all vestiges of a smile off her face as she turned around to face the babbling man. A Doctor they needed, a hungry Doctor firing questions at ten million miles an hour, not so much.

"Can you help us?" she asked, and a little bit of desperation must have shown in her eyes, because he leaned back, nodding hesitantly. He still looked troubled, though.

_I hope he isn't still thinking about that sandwich. That is NOT my job._

...

Michael leaned back against the car door, spreading out across the whole backseat. He had to admit, it wasn't the most comfortable place to sit, especially because he was essentially sitting on Dr. I-want-a-sandwich and Roan. But it was probably annoying the hell out of the Cleaner, so he settled in and waited out the car ride.

But with about five minutes till they arrived, and nothing but trees, trees, fields, road signs, and the occasional blownout tire to look at, his thoughts inevitably turned towards Nikita.

_I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Didn't imagine it working out like this._

He shook his head slightly, trying to dispel all thoughts of losing her. But even he had to admit that it wasn't looking as good as he would like. They had managed to get the Doctor she needed but he was pretty sure she had crashed earlier and Alex had revived her, even if Birkhoff hadn't specifically told him. And they weren't exactly making record time, what with the little stop to chat with the cops, courtesy of Roan.

He turned his faintly aching head to look at Sean. Alex and Sean had given him a rough idea of what had happened after he blacked out, but Michael was pretty sure that they were leaving out a few details, such as how many cops had died or who had killed them. _Sean's looking kind of thoughtful and grim, though. Not that he isn't usually, but god damn it, withholding information to protect the others is Nikita's thing! _

Michael realized he was being slightly ridiculous. They weren't exacly usurping her on purpose. But he had been protecting Alex ever since he joined Nikita, and it felt strange for her to be going easy on him. But his head was pounding from Roan's hit and he just wanted to get back to Nikita.

He had been there when she woke up in Division for the first time, and he would be there when she woke up now.

_And if anything or anyone gets in my way, so help me God, I have several special bullet just for you._

...

Roan felt the adrenaline building in his veins. He calculated that he had seven minutes and eight point five seconds precisely until he was at maximum strength. Manufacturing an adrenaline rush in order to escape was a skill he had carefully cultivated for situations exactly like this one.

In the meantime, though, he had to deal with the sudden sweep of emotions overwhelming the rational, well-trained side of his brain. _I am merely unaccustomed to the sensation because of years of neglect. A long-forgotten experience may in fact feel new._

The ability to swear and have unproductive reactions to problems was slowly creeping back to him as well, which explained the errant thought from earlier. He tried that method of thinking again. _Damn. Oh, damn. Damn it all. _

He was interrupted from his strange little reverie by their arrival at what appeared to be Nikita's latest safe house. The rational side of his brain took over again, and he felt the adrenaline stirring in his veins, his heart pumping. He could not move his head, or most of the rest of his body, actually, but the adrenaline would peak soon and he was confident that he could easily rip through. _Confidence. Interesting._

_Perhaps emotional sensation does have its uses._

...

Birkhoff heard the screech of the car pulling into the garage and then the slamming of car doors. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. His posse could handle itself, he knew, but it still was slightly nerve-wracking every time they went out. Although, when you quintuple the amount of people you are feeding, you go through money a lot faster.

_I mean, it's not like we're in shortage mode money-wise anymore, that stupid CIA trap didn't do much but delay me. But still. They are eating and shooting their way through MY money._

Birkhoff lounged back in his chair, looking up at the balcony by the entrance. Mikey and Sean came in first, lugging an irate looking, bound and gagged Roan. Alex followed, supporting a slightly confused looking man who was apparently a bit unsteady on his feet. Birkhoff recognized him from the picture he had looked up on Shadownet as Dr. Thomas Branahan.

_Well, hopefully his hands are a bit steadier than his feet. Cuz he's looking pretty hammered right now. Although, being knocked out repeatedly by Mikey and Seanny would be worse than any hangover. And I have had hangovers that hurt like a mothereffing pancake._

He gave one small snort when he looked up at Mikey and Sean, who were apparently both in I-am-a-serious-ex-military-assassin mode, dragging Roan down the stairs.

_Now that is one lovely sight I never thought I'd get to see. I'd hate to be around when they debate about who gets to shoot him first. Niki might win this one, though, when we get her back on her feet._

Birkhoff had to snort again to himself when Mikey unceremoniously dumped the Terminator on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Sean dragged him to his feet again, looking slightly at a loss for how he was supposed to carry him by himself, but something softened in his eyes when Mikey ran over to Niki and sat down by her couch, gently smoothing back her hair and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand.

There were epic flowing speeches of love and romance and ponies riding off into the sunset behind the pain in Mikey's eyes. But apparently he was saving those for later, because he all he said, in a gentle tone, was, "You're gonna be all right."

Then he turned and motioned Doctor I-am-slightly-overwhelmed-what-is-happening, who had apparently managed to recover his balance and his wits, over to Niki's bedside. _Or couchside. Whatever._

The man still had looked vaguely mystified. But the Doctor's face solidified into a determined expression when he saw his patient.

_Well, he would have to be the world's most gigantic douche not to want to help her. I mean, she's young, hotter than hell, and has a bunch of kidnappers and assassins for friends. I bet some dudes have fantasies like this, like a save-the-hot-girl thing. _

_Let's hope this guy can do it in real life. Or I will punch him in the balls so hard he will bleed for a week._

...

Alex ran down the stairs and helped Sean to lift Roan over to a chair and tie him down. He didn't really appear to be attempting escape, but with Roan, there was no safe marker for being careful. He had almost killed Sean adnd Michael in the chair while bound and gagged, and she was not going to let anything hurt them, not today.

Sean, of course, was fine. He cared for Nikita in a limited, calculated fashion, but he would not be devastated if he lost her. He admirec and respected her efforts, but the cause was the most important thing.

_I suppose it's the military in him. You save everyone and anyone you can, but if you have to protect people by doing something hard, you do it, no matter who you risk. _

Her father had not raised her even with that. The mantra drummed into her head at every hour of the day was _Protect your family. Protect yourself. And do whatever it takes to spit, slash, and claw your way to the top._

In a way, she was grateful for that. It made her lifestyle so much easier. It was the only way to survive in the espionage world. She had adopted a small family here, and she would not let them go, not unless she had to. Not again.

But as she looked at Michael, standing alone and anxious as the Doctor examined Nikita, she wondered. _Too many people, well, too many spies at least, would tell you to go it alone. Be loyal to you and you alone._

Then she glanced over at Sean, and then at Roan. _There is no way on this earth that I am going to end up alone with nothing but an uncaring and corrupt agency telling me what to do._

She looked over at Sean again, who caught her wide-eyed gaze and held it with a small smile.

_Maybe I won't have to. After all, there's nothing wrong with someone else to protect you, now is there?_

...

As soon as he made it down the stairs, he couldn't care less about Roan. _I never should have left in the first place. Why the hell did I let them convince me? _He dumped the Cleaner unceremoniously on the floor and ran over to her. He gently stroked her smooth forehead and silky black hair, troubled by the heat he felt rising from her body.

There was so much he had to say to her, so much they still had left to do. _I don't think you're allowed to leave yet, Niki. We've got some unfinished business. I need you. Hell, I need to be able to tell you I love you and hear you say it back.I've already wasted so much time not doing that. If you don't wake up, I am going to tear Percy apart piece by piece if it kills me and shatters the entire world._

But in the end, he just told her she would be all right.

And then he motioned the Doctor over.

Her words from so long ago echoed in his mind. _You have a family. Right here._

_God, don't make me lose that twice. She deserves so much more than this._

**Okay, I'll admit it, I stole all of those names of Dr. Branahan's friends from Criminal Minds. They're perfectly good names! Oh, well. I had fun with that.**

**Keep reading and reviewing! If you like, tell me your Nikita OTP and your least favorite character, dead or alive.**

**Also, I just sort of put them in the house where they have the balcony and the stairs winding down the side and the entrance is at the top of the stairs. I'm pretty sure they had one like that. Doesn't matter. Pretty much all of their houses have stairs. It's not really that important to my story, as long as Percy doesn't know about it and it's a house. I sort of left the description of the surroundings generic. You all probably did not need to know my thougths on location, but just in case anyone was wondering. You know****. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Alrighty, guys, sorry for the long wait. Real life caught up with me and I spent a total of at least 38 hours on a bus in the past week. Also, thank you, you beautifully insane people, for 54 reviews. That's a little bit surreal for the first story you put up and your only multi-chapter. **

**Onwards and Upwards to Chapter 10!**

Agent Donovan slowly crept forward, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the bulletproof vest and helmet press him down into the earth and wishing that he had bothered to straighten his goggles. He knew everything that they told him was true. They were giving him a second chance, giving him a gift, saving his life and letting him help his country. It had to be true. But he had killed one man, and that was enough for him.

_It's almost worse for me than for the ones who haven't done it before. They think it's going to be easy. _

Of course, his first mission would be to attack the latest lair of Division Enemy Numero Uno, the woman who had managed to defy Percy for far too long. She would be punished this time, if he had any say in it. And yet, to some extent, he was sick to his stomach at the thought of it. He always had been a good actor, but he knew in his heart that something was wrong. There were far too many recruits on this mission, and far too many of them had been struggling in the training. _Are we truly disposable to him? To this country? _

He had no qualms about sacrificing his own life. He was a murderer, worthless scum who couldn't even keep sober long enough to remember his own name. There was another one in their group, though, a young blonde woman called JJ. Whatever she had done to get herself into Division, he didn't think she deserved to die. But if their mission did succeed, what would they gain? As much as Percy had tried to deny it, Nikita was one of them. As much as the supervisors tried to quash the gossip, everyone knew the story. How she was a recruit, and how the endless seductions and assassinations drove her over the edge. A few of the recruits and newer agents had even been trained by Michael and Birkhoff. Most of them had known Alex and seen Sean around Operations.

They were all deadly. But more importantly, they were all the people that they had the potential to become. And no matter how loyal the team advancing towards the solitary house remained to Percy and to their country, there was not a single one of them that had no qualms, no doubts about the mission.

As they grew nearer to the house, hoping and praying that the occupants were unaware, William Sally Philip Donovan looked around at the other agents, seeing the mix of determination and fear on their faces. His eyes lingered on JJ for a few seconds longer than necessary, feeling a twinge in his heart at her set expression. She was one of the few recruits who had smiled at him, and she had a beautiful smile. But she was even more devoted to the work than he was, and thought he could ever be.

_I hope to God that I haven't seen that smile for the last time already. _

And then they were 50 feet out. 40 feet. 30.

The order came, brief, quiet, over the coms.

"Open fire."

* * *

Roan felt his adrenaline building, feeling the rage fill his body. But tiny pieces of other emotions had been released from the cabinet in the back of his head where he kept the pieces of himself non-essential to the mission. _It is only logical to maintain a clean mind to perform missions with maximum efficiency. _

He began to feel twinges of guilt even as the strength filled his limbs. Regret for the people he'd killed, which he had never had before. He'd shut down long before that, long before Percy recruited him from the jail where he was serving out a sentence for a crime he could never forgive himself for, and turned him into the perfect killing machine. It was not a recruitment based on emotional redemption, as Michael's had been, but rather a promise. He would be put to use. He would be made new, made better, made strong. And he had taken that chance, filled himself with a cold, calculating new manner and reorganized the very structure of his mind, learning to shut things away, to shut away everything he had lost, and to ignore the emotions that had previously defined his life.

_Analyzation: Adrenaline rush almost at maximum effectiveness. Commence mission: release self from bonds in approximately 34.5 seconds. _

And then the thoughts began to rush out of his cabinet, rush out from behind the bars where he had kept them so long. _I'm sorry. I miss you. I love you. I can't believe I haven't visited your graves all these years, all four of you. I'm so sorry. _He wrenched himself back into the logical side of his brain, frantically rebuilding a wall in his mind, a wall to protect himself. And yet, he was shocked to find a tear sliding down his face.

He began to pull at his ropes, feeling the strength coursing through his arms, his panic about the thoughts that were penetrating his unguarded mind only aiding his efforts. The ropes broke quietly, and he ignored the pain on the sides of his wrist, and in his shoulder and down on his side just above his right hipbone where he had bullet wounds. He looked down at the bonds on his feet, recognizing the knots and easily untying them. He then rose silently, like a vengeful shadow. He glanced out the window, and to his surprise saw the Division strike team. A small joyless smile crossed his face as he recognized them, and he turned to look at the other occupants of the room as small beeping noises came from Birkhoff's computer. He charged forward and tackled the man who had risen out of his chair and was beginning to inform Michael of the twenty heat signatures they had advancing towards their position.

And then he looked up, as Michael advanced towards him. He still had the emotion, the rage and loss driving his adrenaline, but he looked in Michael's eyes, and he knew it would do him no good when he was still carrying _them _around with him.

He and Michael had always had more in common than the other man realized. And he never could.

He pushed the emotion, the rage, the aching memory of the family he had lost in a horrible car crash, the painful love he still had for his wife and three beautiful little children, the guilt of surviving when it was **his **fault, the horrible memory of the one or two little drinks he had taken, foolishly believing that he would be fine driving his family from the wedding. He shoved it all back into the closet, and breathed a sigh of relief as logic and reason and cold detachment took over his brain once more.

_Situation: badly injured with undetermined (x) amount of blood gone. Severe disadvantage in physical contest with target Beta (identified: Michael West). Have neutralized targets Alpha (identified: Nikita Meers) and Techie (identified: Seymour Birkhoff). Fifth party in room (unidentified: surgeon) poses no threat. Targets Seal and Princess (identified: Sean Pierce) and (identified: Alexandra Udinov) are not on the scene, and must not be summoned. Course of action: determined. _

He launched himself at Michael, who had turned from his perch on the couch at the crashing sound of Birkhoff and his chair hitting the ground. He was just beginning to draw his gun out of pure reflex when Roan crashed into him, and they fell to the floor behind the chair.

It may very well have saved both of their lives.

* * *

Birkhoff lounged in his chair, looking at the ceiling and wondering if Niki would kill him if there was a disco ball installed there when she woke up. _Hey, I'm serious; this place could be a total party hub if we livened things up a bit. Oh, wait, dude… Way too many smoking hot enemy assassins invite themselves to parties. Hell, you saw it every day. _

_I might be able to live with that, though. _

He lifted his head from its resting place on the back of his chair and pulled himself up to the computer when he heard the beeping alarm go off. His brow wrinkled in confusion, he tapped the keyboard a couple of times, going to the security section of ShadowNet that was currently guarding the safe house.

_What the? Oh, hell no, Percy, you are not going to be this bitchy, not today, not again… Come on, dude, you already got Niki down, you are not seriously going to attack the house… How the hell did you know? _

He opened his mouth to inform Michael of their lovely new situation, when something rather large and distinctly unfriendly crashed into him and his chair crashed over backwards onto the floor, slamming his head down.

Through the sea of stars, he managed to catch a glimpse of Roan's face and bloodstained glasses. The man looked like absolute hell, pale and bloodstained and enraged. _Oh, god… My freakin' head… I am NOT going to get killed by the Terminator while lying in a tipped over chair. My death is going to have theme music. _

But then the weight was lifted from his chest, and he choked out a breath. God damn it. Hopefully the crashing-to-the-floor bit had been enough to give Mikey the signal. He heard another crash, and wished he could turn his head to see what the pancake was going on over there.

_Yeah, right, dream on, it feels like it's going to fall off if you try to do that. Let me see… We got a worried Mikey, a useless hungry surgeon, an unconscious injured Niki, and Seanny-boy and Princess Russia in the other room vs. one very pissed off injured Terminator. Dammit. Come on, Mikey, you beat him once; you can't let him get your girl twice in one day. _

And that was when the machine gun fire started, shattering their windows and peppering the opposite wall with bullets, mangling his computers and ruining a perfectly good chair.

_Oh, man, if we get out of here, Niki is going to go on another house-furnishing shopping spree. Although, if I could move without my head splitting in two, I'd get a lot farther on the getting-out-of-here-alive thing. _

With a groan, he dragged himself out of his chair, underneath the table that had once held his computers and now held a whole lot of shot up wires and some random computer-looking bits, and settled himself down behind the wine cabinet against the wall, with his eyes screwed shut and the deafening sound of gunfire growing ever closer to the house.

_I hope that doctor had enough sense to get out of the way. He probably tried to eat the bullets or something. I hope they kill Roan on accident. Oh, damn, I hope Niki's couch is holding up. Oh, shut up, brain, stop being sentimental and get your badass mode on. _

He forced himself to look over. Mikey and Roan had somehow managed to both fall over the back of the chair that Mikey had been sitting on the armrest on and were now crouched behind the chair, seemingly having forgotten that they were supposed to be kicking out of the shit out of each other. He smirked slightly. _If anything brings us together, it's the mutual desire not to get shot. Again. _

Although he couldn't blame Mikey for being distracted. He was alternating between shooting around the corner of the chair and glancing at Niki anxiously.

And then he noticed the doctor crouched behind the back of the couch. _Well, whaddaya know. He had some common sense after all. Or maybe he thought it was a storm and is deathly afraid of thunder. _

He wondered why Roan hadn't knocked Mikey out yet, but then he noticed the division SAT phone the Cleaner had pulled out. _He's getting out of here alive. So he can help with our interrogations later, when we're all back at Division. He's got us this time; he doesn't need to kill us. Great. Oh, how hellishly perfect. Another torture session is just what the doctor ordered._

And that was when the gunfire stopped, and the banging came on the door. Once, twice… then they were inside.

To put it mildly, all hell broke loose.

* * *

Sean felt fear flood his veins as the machine gun fire started from the other room. He gave a silent signal to Alex as they pressed themselves up against the door to room where the others were. _Of course, just when the diva surgeon orders us out of the room the party gets started. Although, I don't very much like their version of party. _

They couldn't see anything but Michael and Roan crouched behind the edge of the chair, one shooting and worrying over Nikita, one summoning their inevitable doom. _Oh, wonderful. I love moving. That was my favorite chair, too. _

He felt a hand grab his, and looked over at Alex in confusion. Not that he had a problem with her trying to be romantic, but was now really the time? He looked into her incredibly blue eyes for a long moment. She stared at him, then after a few faintly awkward moments made a motion with her head as if to say look-down-you-moron. He glanced down at her hand and then grabbed the rather nice automatic she had been trying to hand him.

Suddenly, the gunfire ceased. Bangs came on the door and then it collapsed inwards. Sean scooted forward, not quite clearing the doorframe but looking into the room. Roan and Michael had gotten up and were starting to fight. Normally, he would be betting on Roan, no offense to Michael, but the injuries seemed to cancel out the normal advantage that the regimen gave him. Birkhoff was crouched behind the wine cabinet, shielded from the view of the strike team advancing through the door. Some of them looked impossibly young, recruits even, on their very first mission, possibly. He glanced over at the doctor and Nikita briefly, just to confirm that they were both still alive, and then closed his eyes for the barest instant.

And for the second time that day, he turned and began to fire mercilessly into the oncoming stream of Division agents advancing into the room. He felt Alex's warm body beside him, moving to his side and firing well-aimed shots from a smaller handgun.

And slowly, they began to fall. The way they had bottlenecked themselves at the door showed their inexperience. Most of them didn't even have time to fire back, and the ones that did fired at the ceiling. The last few hid on the side of the doorframe, firing at the door where Alex and Sean were hiding themselves sporadically.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Michael flip Roan over his shoulder and onto the floor, the run to Niki and kneeling beside her couch, not caring at all that there were still agents firing from the door. Luckily, their attention was still focused on the people who were actually shooting at them. _People do have an unfortunate tendency to shoot only at the thing that actually looks like a threat. Gotten plenty of good men killed. _

Alex handed him another case of bullets and he quickly reloaded, glancing at her briefly as she did the same with her own gun. He often felt most connected to other people like this, working together wordlessly, anticipating each other's moves. He wasn't exactly sure what had been going on with her staring at him earlier, but now wasn't the time to think about it. They were two people working together as one, and it didn't matter who they were anymore or what they thought of each other.

Alex leaned forward and whispered, "We never took out Roan's tracker. We have to get out of here, but we can't take him, and I don't know if we can move Nikita. Can you get us time?"

He looked at her, realization and horror at their stupidity dawning in his eyes. Slowly, then, he nodded, turning to fire as Alex made a quick somersault out of the door and behind the coach where Roan lay on the floor.

_Time. I can buy all the time you need. Just get yourself out of here, and stop doing somersaults, you gorgeous little showoff._

* * *

She wasn't sure what it was that wrenched her out of the black and the red, whether it was the deafening gunfire or the feel of a familiar hand on her own. Her eyes shot open, not knowing where she was or what was happening and not completely sure if she liked being awake. Her mind still felt clouded, tinged with the red, but she felt more… alive than she had in what seemed like so very long. Her wide brown eyes flicked to the right to meet a pair of tired green ones, on a face that was so, so, familiar. Even if she couldn't quite remember all of it.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" grumbled a familiar voice.

She tried to open her mouth, tried to answer, tried to figure everything out. Bits and pieces fell in. She was home, she thought… Well, he was here, so she must be, right? No, not he, Michael. Michael was here. But then there was gunfire, and things being shot, and Roan knocked out on the floor, and an unfamiliar looking person crouched peeking over the couch by her feet.

And then she looked at him again. And she knew, knew in her heart the red could not take her for long, she would be all right in the end, even if she didn't quite know why.

And then she let the black claim her again, sinking down, down, down, into the velvet depths.

But a quiet smile crossed her face before she closed her eyes again.

**Okay, I made myself feel bad for Roan. Also, I continued my theme of long chapters and use of CM names. And speaking of names... William Sally Philip Donovan? Bam. Will and Donovan in one punch. Oh, the things my brain does at 1:30 a.m. Anyway. Tell me what you think? I love reviews. And it's 2 in the morning. Ah well. **

**Hey, it took me a while, but this is the longest one yet, so…**

**Oh, tell me your favorite scene from Nikita. If you've got one. And I mean, 1x17 ending and 1x18 beginning come to mind, but… I don't know. If you like. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry about the update wait on a cliffhanger. I really don't have a good excuse, although I did go away for a week and half to places with no internet. Anyway, here you go! Hope you enjoy. **

Dr. Thomas Branahan was not having a particularly good day. He wasn't quite sure how he had ended up behind the couch, but after the two scary guys from the car had quit fighting and the initial spray of machine gun fire had stopped, that had been where he had found himself. _Well, maybe I do have action hero instincts after all. _

But after the attackers tried to come through the door and ended up either getting shot or pointlessly shooting the doorframe where the other two fighters on his side were hidden, he found he had far too much time to contemplate how strange his life was becoming. He also contemplated how he was still rather hungry, wished that they had stopped at a restroom on the ride here, and that he do some stretching without attracting attention and getting himself shot, which did not sound very pleasant. _I've seen far too many of them to wonder what that would be like. _

So, for now, he had to wait. Right. Waiting. Until the firefight stopped, and until his captors told him to move again, until his foot actually woke up again because right now it was completely asleep.

_Hopefully there will still be a patient for me to treat when the wait is over._

* * *

Birkhoff wedged himself more firmly into the corner between the wine cabinet and the wall. After shooting up his beautiful tech and the ten millionth furniture set he'd had to purchase, the idiots had apparently forgotten that Mikey, Niki and Birkhoff were in the room. _I always did think it was incredibly how single-mindedly idiotic people are when other people start shooting at them. _As long as Sean and Alex could keep up the distraction, they would probably be all right. But if the stalemate continued for too long, they might realize they had easier targets and actually do something intelligent for once in their lives.

He peeked around the corner of the wall. The room where Sean and Alex were hanging out was at the bottom of the stairs that led down from the main entrance and the hallway that clung to the side of the main room, high above. So far, it looked like Sean and Alex had managed to kill or injure about 5 of the agents who had tried to come into their home, but there were probably about ten more agents out there, looking for an alternate entrance to the house or waiting to come in once their attackers ran out of ammo. _Dammit, Niki, why do you have to like windows so much? We could be in a freaking nuclear bunker right now. Oh, crap, wait, that'd make us Division 2.0. Scratch that. _

They needed to get the hell out of there before someone else got shot. _Oh, great, perfect time for me to have the mother of all headaches. Thanks a bunch, Roan. Just kill me already. _

He pulled himself back behind the wall, pressing his head into his hands and wishing that the shooting would stop already, because it was not helping. His eyes slowly traveled up the table where his computers had been set up previously, and he couldn't help but let out a small, distinctly un-badass whimper at the sight of his beautiful destroyed tech. _Those computers were my babies! Alright, bitches, time to die. _

Now angry, he continued his search for something, anything he could use as a weapon, that wasn't actually a weapon. His head was still pounding from the knock on the floor on and he was feeling more like curling up with a bottle of booze than actually trying to fight these idiots, when his eyes found a miracle. His tablet had been somehow knocked off the table and was lying on the floor about four feet in front of him.

_Hallelujah. _He took a deep breath, and then scrambled desperately forward to grab it, hoping that his sudden movement wouldn't attract the attention of the fighters up above. He felt like jumping up and pumping his fist when he managed to lay his hands on it without incident. Then a few bullets zinged by his head, burying themselves in the already ruined table, and he scooted backwards into his corner as fast as he could. _Okay, dude, breathe, you got it. It's kill time. _

He woke the tablet up, and of course he didn't breathe a sigh of relief when it actually worked. Flipping through the programs quickly, he opened the one that detonated various fail-safes and traps around the house, scrolling down the list; he accidentally hit the electronic control that set of the sprinklers. _Whoops. Okay, I'm gonna pin that on someone shooting the fire alarm. _After a few more seconds, he found the very latest addition to their household, one that he had insisted upon after the last house-invasion… He took another deep breath before pushing the button. _Geez, what is it, therapy breathing techniques day? _

But there was no more time for amusing thought as the entire area around the doorframe exploded, and the entire house shook as smaller explosions spider webbed across the wall spreading out from the initial blast.

And that was before the roof started caving in.

_Oh, great. Well, damnit. _

_This is gonna be fun._

And then his thoughts were lost in the sound of the world collapsing around him.

* * *

Michael looked up in alarm, reacting automatically to the sudden cease fire and the new sound invaded his senses. _Explosions. _

Oh, god, no, not again. There had already been far too many dangerous explosions in his life; he didn't need this one…

He looked around automatically, and was able to identify Birkhoff and his tablet as the source of the new development in the situation. _He must have activated the fail-safes. There is a reason they are called FAIL-safes. _

He knew that the stale-mate with the agents trying to enter the doorway wouldn't have lasted forever, if any of them had any sense, they would have called for backup as soon as the attack started and the targets they were fighting were confirmed.

Of course, he would like to think that the training at Division had dropped so considerably in its quality that all of the members of the attacking strike team wouldn't be able to process communication during a firefight, but somehow he doubted it. It was Percy they were up against, after all.

And then the debris began to fall heavily from the high ceiling as smaller explosions ran along the wall by the entranceway and then down the stairs. He threw himself upon on the couch, bracing himself over Nikita's inert body while carefully avoiding her injured shoulder, and covered the back of his neck as the entire side of the house began to collapse.

_Oh, I am so going to kick Birkhoff's ass for this one when we get out of here._

* * *

Jennifer knew that something was wrong the moment that the attack began. She had been in a fight so much like this one so many times that she couldn't even remember when the first time it had happened and what it was like not to know precisely what to do with a gun.

But the members of her team were mostly complete idiots. Especially the ones who were in charge of strategy, apparently. Because sending off five members of their squad after the initial firing into the stupidly large windows and then having the rest try to go through the door had to be the WORST strategy she had ever been forced to execute.

And she couldn't help but feel a small, sick burst of smug I-told-you-so inside of herself when the first five members through the door were mowed down immediately. From what she had read of Michael and Nikita's little band of miscreants, they were many things. Deluded, perhaps, but effective? Unquestionably. And Percy had sent a band of the most inexperienced and inept recruits and agents who had displeased him in the past few weeks. She wasn't stupid. This was deliberate.

She had been suspicious from the first vague briefing about the mission. All they had been told was that it was a "rescue mission" and that a "valuable asset" needed recovering. _Some asset if he can't manage to save his own skin. _He hadn't mentioned that he was getting rid of the most useless agents in the whole place. She paid attention, but kept her head down and tried her best not to draw attention to herself, which might explain how she had ended up on this mission.

Her past few months in Division, her eyes and ears had been open. She had learned the Operations of Division better than very nearly anyone, especially some of the people who were actually supposed to know what they were doing. She had gone from a life of crime to a life of really, really, organized competitive crime, what was the difference, really?

And then there was Will. Stupid, incompetent, following her around like a lost puppy half the time… and yet, there was something about how his black hair was incessantly curly and messy and frizzy and the way he looked at her like she knew all the answers and the way that he could surprise her sometimes by saying something, well, remarkably intelligent. She didn't know what to make of it.

But she was glad for him now, with her back pressed up against the doorframe, trying to get the idiots who were actually shooting right now to aim at the unprotected people in the room rather than at the doorframe that hid the people who were firing back. His presence, right next to her against the wall, was like an anchor that kept her from getting frustrated and just shooting everyone, although she did contemplate it.

When it became clear that everyone else on their strike team was both deaf, idiotic and not going to listen, she looked around for another way to help. The side of house that they had initially fired at, messing it up royally, might be an option for alternative entry if the morons weren't so fixated on gaining access through the door.

Jennifer turned to him, looked him in the eyes, and told him, "Stay."

She saw the protest rising in his eyes but she ran off toward the side of the house before he could master his opinions or make up his mind to follow her anyway. For some reason, she found herself being stupidly protective of him, which was a mistake. It would be useful to have another person with her, but her instinct was to keep him here where the reinforcements she had called would arrive within ten minutes and where he had less risk of being shot. He could be absurdly clumsy sometimes, which explained how he had landed himself on this mission even though he wasn't doing too badly overall.

She scanned the inside of the house, and then she saw them. Michael and Nikita. Priority Numero Uno. Michael was crouched protectively by the side of a coach where Nikita lay… injured? That was new. And on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from multiple places, was Roan. _Hmph. Some asset. _

She raised her gun, preparing to take them out one and for all. Her eyes from Michael to Nikita and even once for Roan, uncertainty flooding through her mind. She knew Division better than most, better than Percy would ever be allowed to suspect. And these… rebels… whatever they were… They represented a hope. A hope that she could get out too. _Maybe even with Will… _A traitorous little part of her brain whispered. She hit that part of her brains several times with a frying pan. She was just taking aim, about to shoot Michael because he actually seemed to post a reasonable threat here, when it started.

A noise she was far too familiar with was echoing through the air, growing louder and louder with a roar as the entire side of the house began to collapse from the explosions. _Explosions. By the door. _

_Will. _

Gun forgotten, she sprinted toward the source of the explosions, which was, in hindsight, a terrible, awful, stupid idea.

And she wouldn't regret it for a second.

* * *

Sean and Alex opened their eyes once the explosions and things falling down around them seemed to have stopped. The ceiling was slanted downwards and they would have to crouch if they wanted to stand up. There also happened to be a lovely array of deadly weapons scattered all around on the floor.

Alex felt a slight flush color her cheeks when she realized that at some point during the explosions, she had grabbed onto Sean's shirt and buried her face in his arm, and that he had grabbed her in a protective way as well. But as much as she'd like to watch him try to think of a way to ask her out that he hadn't tried yet, they had work to do, possibly some people to kill, and definitely some people that needed to get the hell out of there.

She untangled them, but her hand trailed down to grab his. They crawled forward, because it was easier than crouching, moving from the side room where they had been camped out into what used to be the main room of the house.

Whoever had rigged the explosives had done an excellent job. The wall by the door was essentially demolished and the roof of the house was now sagging rather dramatically in that direction. There was debris and dust everywhere. Alex couldn't help but give a little whistle.

Fortunately, the side of the room that Michael and Nikita were on was the opposite of the collapsed-exploded destroyed part and the roof was still clinging to the intact wall before sloping downward.

She surveyed the destroyed tech and shredded up sofa cushions, her eyes pausing briefly on Roan, passed out on the floor, before finding Birkhoff. Birkhoff, who was still sitting on the floor clutching the tablet with a faintly shell shocked expression.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "I know we did this last time, but seriously? A little warning would have been nice before you blow our home up, again?"

He shrugged, seemingly recovering his wits, and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes slowly and shaking out his absurd hair.

"Well, you know, babe, I did just kind of save all your asses, again, so you could be a little more on the grateful side right now," he quipped, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of nowhere.

Alex rolled her eyes and turned to the couch, where Michael had pulled himself off of Nikita and seemed to be checking everyone over for injuries.

Sean wasn't in a mood for joking either. He kept turning, his eyes flicking from side to side to survey the damage. He turned back towards her and caught her questioning gaze. "We need to get out of here, now. This won't go unnoticed and they probably have backup on the way."

She took a deep breath, and then turned to the frightened Doctor who was still crouched behind the end of the couch. _Wait a second… is he unconscious again or did that guy legitimately fall asleep in the middle of a battle?_

She walked over and nudged him, none too gently, with her boot. Surely enough, he jolted awake, looking around with wide, startled eyes, before focusing on her and seeming to remember why he wasn't at home eating.

She made a motion with her head to indicate Nikita, who Michael was still busy checking over for any change or accidental injury.

"Is it safe to move her?" she asked, trying not to let her worry shine through in her eyes.

The doctor took a deep breath, and after a few seconds gave a slow nod. "Well, it won't be good for her, but it can't hurt her much. As long as it's quick. Time is important here."

Michael seemed finished with his examination, because he turned to the group, taking control once again.

And Alex couldn't help the breath that caught in her throat when she realized just how long Nikita might have to wait to get the help that she so desperately needed right now.

* * *

Michael wanted to shoot somebody. Specifically, Michael wanted to shoot Birkhoff for endangering his already injured girlfriend, not to mention everybody else. Although, he had to admit, it had been effective in stopping the attackers.

They somehow managed to navigate out through a broken window without any further incident or injury. Getting Nikita through gently was a project, but when she was out and safely settled in Michael's arms, he resumed his standard procedure of fuming at Birkhoff, scanning for remaining members of the strike team, and worrying about Nikita. A lot of worrying about Nikita.

They had decided to leave Roan alone in the wreckage. With the amount of injuries he had, a normal person would probably be dead, but Roan sort of defied all definitions of normal. With luck, he might be out of commission for a few months, which would be one less thing for them to worry about.

They somehow managed to make it to the backup getaway car that they always parked in the woods, just in case they had to flee. They somehow got on the road, with Sean at the wheel, driving like he had a destination in mind. He wasn't sure. After his initial burst of leadership back in the house when they were trying to get Nikita out, she had been one of the only things he was focused on. And as long as they got somewhere, safe and quiet and fast, then they would be all right.

He hoped.

**I have absolutely no idea what happens when you blow up a side of a house, but it was kind of fun, so… If anyone is an architect or a physics person ignore the rules of the universe for a bit with me. **

**That seemed weird. Oh, god, was that weird? Did I do okay? Did you like it? Hate it? Wish I would stop shipping OC's for no reason? Would you like to know what the heck happened to poor Will and Jennifer when things started exploding?**

**Oh, and yeah, they might have references to other characters in their name, but they are completely different people. **

**Oh, geez, I'm going to dislike this chapter anyway, no review games for me. *hugs* SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT FOR THIS MILDLY CRAPPY CHAPTER HAVE I FAILED YOU?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Right. So. School has started, which means I'm going to be a bit later with updates for you guys, but I'll try not to torture you too much. (Oh, wait, yes I most certainly will. Heh.) Anyway, have a Chapter!**

The car was zipping down the roadway almost as fast as it had peeled into the driveway a mere hour before. The smoldering wreckage of the house lay behind the slightly cramped car, speeding away in the distance as Alex looked out the rear window. Nikita had been carefully laid across the middle seat, her head cradled gently in Michael's lap and her feet resting on Alex's legs. She looked forward at Sean driving more intensely than she would have thought was humanly possible before now and Birkhoff tapping away at his computer as usual. She gave a small sigh. _You know it's a bad day when Birkhof is being completely serious. _

The steady rhythm of the others breathing and sway of the fast-moving car lulled her body and calmed heightened senses, but there was no way she was going to feel remotely sleepy now. As much as she had overcome her experiences, being in a burning house, well, being in a burning anything still sent her spiraling downward a bit. She might have even joined that strange Doctor they picked up in his mini-panic attack when they were trying to get him into the car.

Her father's voice echoed in her ears even as she tried to shut it out. "_You were made for greatness, Aleksandra, be strong." _His voice wasn't the one she needed to hear right now, his version of greatness wasn't the path she had chosen. And yet no matter how much she reminded herself that she was not alone and she had found her purpose, Nikita's feet stretched across her lap reminded her of something else.

_You were being so, so, stupid with Sean earlier. You can't afford to get attached, you know this, think of what Papa said, think of everything that's happened to you, even what Nikita did. You let yourself get hurt because you cared. And now look at you. Weak because of another person you care about, yet again. _She shook herself, trying to get rid of the burgeoning thoughts, but her eyes flicked up to meet Sean's in the rearview mirror as soon as she stopped that small movement. It was times like this that she wanted Nikita, just for the sake of having another woman to talk to. She could fight, she could survive, she could endure without her. But she didn't really want to sort out her feelings for Sean right now, and she didn't think that any of the other guys would be particularly enthusiastic about talking_. Come on, Alex, you're Russian. Why do you need to talk anyway? _

But maybe even Nikita wouldn't be able to help her with this one. She sure as hell understood what it was like to lose everyone you love, but she had Michael and wasn't going to let go anytime soon. She wouldn't understand how Alex felt about Sean, why they flirted and flounced, why she was a stalwart supporter and why even though she thought she might be just a little bit in love with him, she held herself back when he asked her on dates. Because even with the rest of their little team, commitment meant that you had a chance to lose everything. And now with Nikita… out of commission, for a bit, she was left wondering who she would lose next. _We made a good team, down there sniping, and I know I trust him more than I maybe should, but everything you love keeps getting hurt and lost and he's lost too much already. _

_Damn it. _

_Nikita, please just wake up already._

* * *

Roan blinked his eyes slowly, sluggishly staring up at a ceiling that seemed a lot closer than it should. He slowly began to move his limbs, assessing his physical condition. _Findings: At least three gunshot wounds, with serious potential for blood loss and possible internal injury. Head trauma sustained in recent times: Possibility of concussion – calculating – negative, no concussion sustained._

Carefully turning his head to the side, he assessed the condition of the room he was in. Technically, it was the remains of what had once been a room, a room he distinctly remembered as being intact when he was knocked out. _(Note: Avoid capture and being rendered unconscious in the future, extremely inhibiting to Priority Alpha: Capture Nikita) _The entire wall by the main entrance way appeared to have exploded and the roof was now slanted at a rather alarming angle, which left him lying under maybe eight feet of sagging roof, surrounded by a notable amount of debris and nothing else.

No targets were visible in his limited range of sight, but even he couldn't see about three-quarters of the room, he could tell that he was alone. _The Hunter knows when it's hunted, _he thought to himself grimly, before shaking off such romantically frivolous notions. Now was the time to focus, to be logical, and to plot his next course of action.

_Priority Alpha: Nikita, has left the premises, along with all other targets formerly in the area. Division will come to check when the strike team does not report back, they will also sift through the debris in the vain hope that some technology is undestroyed or even of a body left behind. Course of action: wait. _

Roan settled down into the floor as best he could, careful not to aggravate his injuries as much as possible. According to his calculations, Percy's second team should arrive in approximately 15. 34 minutes, and they would find him when they arrived. He would not bleed out beforehand, the Regimen also included components to help wounds close quickly and boost the immune system, an advantage that had proved vital in situations such as these.

There was no boredom in waiting. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off into the logic of his mind, calculating and recalculating the fastest ways to kill a target, and plotting new ways to capture Nikita. His brain may have been slower and fuzzier than he liked it to be, but he could still use his time wisely.

And when his eyes snapped open to the half-worried, half-awed face of a young Division strike team member, he snapped his orders quickly.

_A logical course of action will be maintained if it is the last task I ever manage to accomplish._

* * *

Percy sat at his desk, staring at the young woman in front of him with a look of such penetrating disgust she was rendered temporarily speechless. He looked her up and down. A young recruit, new to the tech center, then, Sonya must have sent her. She wouldn't last long here, she didn't have the gumption that it took to go up against hackers like Birkhoff who were just as fond as bamboozling the socks off of their victims as they were of coding.

He managed to lessen the intensity of his gaze. Stammering would do him little good. "Repeat yourself, please." He intoned in a dull, flat voice that was somehow more terrifying than rage would have been.

"Sir… Th-The strike team that you sent out, it, it didn't report back, and, so, well, we sent out another one, and… they're… they're all dead, the first one that is, and they found another agent in the wreckage and the house was all exploded and apparently it's-"

Percy had had enough ranting. His junior strike team had failed him, as he had expected it would, but that didn't change the importance of what had just been said. The other agent in the "wreckage" was obviously Roan, whom they had tracked there, but the important questions were left unanswered. _What wreckage are they in? And why would Nikita do something this foolhardy?_

The girl was quite clearly terrified when he abruptly cut her off, given by the way she flinched and the frightened look in her eyes as she suddenly contemplated the carpet. He sighed. He really did need to filter their tech recruits more severely. Reaching out his hand, he gestured for the laptop. "Let me see."

She handed him the device and all but fled from his office when he shooed her away. Flipping through the few images that the agents were starting to upload, he noted the remains of the partially demolished house. _Isolated, modernly styled architecture, practically has Nikita's name written all over it._

A flicker of annoyance fluttered through his chest before he dismissed it. Anger was not useful in this situation. But he did fully intend to have a very long chat with Roan about the frequency and level of detail included in his check-ins, and then to make a plan.

_And he had better have good news for me somewhere in there too. _

* * *

The first think that Will noticed when he blinked himself awake was not the pain shooting through his legs to his upper body, nor the dust and rubble surrounding him, but the warm lap that his head was cushioned on. He couldn't really think of a reason that someone would be cushioning his head. It felt nice, though, it really did. Maybe he should try to open his eyes and look up at the person.

He felt a cool, small hand on his cheek. "Will? Are you awake?"

His eyes shot open, and then snapped shut again. He knew that voice… JJ. Of course. JJ. But what was she doing here? She had gone away to the back of the house… they were going to get shot if they staye- oh wait. The explosion. Right. He remembered the explosion. That would explain the pain, which he had just noticed.

He tried to lift his head to look down and assess the damage, but JJ pushed him back down gently. "Shh. You've got a few rather nasty burns and cuts, maybe a bit of shrapnel here and there, and part of the wall collapsed on both of your legs. They're definitely broken. Just stay still. Division will be here soon."

He found himself shaking his head then. Division was not a nice place for JJ. It was not a nice place for him either. Division was a place where you ended up with two broken legs and cancellation or maybe a nice easy bullet to the head if you're lucky. "No, no, no, not Division, not good," he began to mutter. "Not good."

He had finally managed to open his eyes. JJ looked confused, then a bit of understanding dawned on her face. "You know it too, don't you? They sent us on a suicide mission and they knew it."

I found myself nodding but wanting to shake my head at the same time. Yes, they had sent us on a suicide mission, but more importantly, they had sent JJ. They were going to waste JJ, send her to die for no good reason. That was not good, right?

She looked down at me sadly. "You do realize that you can't run off like this, though, don't you? Not with two broken legs, we wouldn't make it ten yards."

I screwed my eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain racked through my frame, and then I was opening my eyes and shoving her away, saying, "Go, go, go, run, go, get out of here, go, now! JJ, now! Before they get here…" She moved backwards, surprised.

"I can't just leave you all on your own, though. And what am I supposed to do out in the world? I'm a murderer. I'd be a fugitive."

I shook my head. She had to go, she had to get out of here, this would probably be her only chance. I croaked out one last time, "Get rid of the tracker and get out of here. It's your only chance and you know you want to take it. Now go."

Just then, the roar of two black SUV's was heard in the distance. Her eyes darted up to the road and then down to me and then into the woods, a little unsure, like a rabbit ready bound away.

"GO!" I roared one last time, before she was scampering.

But halfway across the clearing, she turned to me and yelled back. "I'm coming back for you, Will, I promise! I promise…"

And then she was gone.

I screwed my eyes shut and tried not to remind myself that by the time she got out into the world and had anywhere near enough resources to take on Division, they would already have cancelled me.

After all, what use is a cripple in an army?

* * *

When Sean finally managed to make the final miraculous hairpin turn into the driveway of the fabulous place that I managed to hook us up with on the way here, I let out a long sigh of relief. For an ex-soldier, that man sure did drive like there were no laws invented against that sort of thing, ever. If I had to hazard I guess, I would say that automobile laws were freaking invented for guys like Sean.

I opened the car door a bit blearily, (hey, it's hard work lying about your identity on a computer all afternoon), letting Michael slowly ease out of the car, cradling a still-unconscious Nikita. After I punched in the house code I had received via email about an hour earlier, I watched in amusement as everyone settled back into their places. Hell, I think I even smiled when Dr. Branahan woke up from his nap in the back of the SUV and scampered straight to the bathroom. _No potty breaks for the weary, huh?_

But now I could finally relax, even if just a little. There was no sense of impending doom. Dr. Branny could check out Niki, Mikey could worry and overanalyze everything, Alex and Sean could finally go off and resolve a little bit of that tension, I could hang out with my tablet and my only salvageable laptop, get Shadownet set up… It was all going to be fine, right?

Yeah, right, Birkhoff, right, you totally believe that.

And you're not going to spend the next hour while he's patching her up and examining her alternating between death glares in his general direction and researching obscure diseases you can get from getting shot.

Nope. Not at all.

_Dear god of pancakes and all things technology, let her be all right. I swear I might even eat something healthy once in a while. Swear. _

_Please. _

_Oh, god, I definitely did not need to know about half of these infections. _

* * *

**Right, so, school, maybe kind of made my writing a little bit better, I feel. Anyhoodle. How was that, darlings? How many more chapters would you like of this one? I mean, I know what's coming and I can ignore you all if need be, but… yeah. **

**I know the POV's are written a bit differently for each person and it keeps changing and I am an evil little person, but you know you love me. **


	13. Chapter 13

**I am so freaking sorry for not uploading this sooner. I've got this and two more content chapters and an epilogue planned out, but that could change or get broken up.**

She blinked her eyes open, looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling and senses still dulled by pain drugs. But her mind was racing as she took in the surroundings: modern, anonymous, minimal furniture. _Could it be?_ But no, there was no way that Division could have captured her. She remembered something, bits and pieces, Michael.

Another flurry of panic shot through her chest. _Michael. _If she was safe, then why weren't they at the house and where was he?

She attempted to sit up, briefly. Her entire felt sluggish and weak and even the small exertion of momentarily attempting to lift her torso off of the bed (_bed? What… where?) _caused her to settle back down with a low groan.

Still, her eyes flicked from side to side. She could feel a vague sense of panic building, the kind of panic that arose from the insecurity of an unfamiliar locale and no friendly faces.

She was about to give getting up another go when the thunk of a mug being hurriedly dropped on the table caught her attention. She looked over, startled, to see Michael rushing over towards her.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply once or twice, before opening them again to see his faintly worried face and tired eyes.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" he asked, his entire face softening into a small smile full of relief.

"Michael?"

Her voice came out tinier, weaker, raspier than she had intended, and she took a minute to swallow.

He rubbed her hand, replying only with a small _Mm-hmnm._

"Where are we? What time is it?"

"We're at the new safe house. Everyone's safe. Let's just say we did some remodeling on the old place," he assured. "How much do you remember?"

" Mission . Roan. Warehouse floor. What did I miss?"

"Huh. I'd thought you were awake at one point, at least…. Division tracked Roan back home, we brought the Doc with us. Birkhoff's little toy explosives went off. We came here, got you patched up. You scared me back there."

She sighed, noting the dull sort of ache creeping into her shoulder as the meds effects slowly wore off. "What's our next play?" she queried, moving to get up again.

"Whoa, whoa, cowgirl, you're not going anywhere," he said with a surprised little quirk of his eyebrow.

She sighed again, flopping back on the bed. "Michael, I'm fine. I just need to rest a bit. Now what's the play?"

He let out a little disbelieving chuckle at that. "Nikita, you just got shot by a large-caliber rifle to the shoulder. It nicked a nice bit of bone that broke off caused some internal bleeding. We were lucky we were able to get a Doctor, we might've lost you otherwise.

She blinked. _Well, that's getting shot by Roan for you, _her inner snark helpfully provided.

She ignored it.

* * *

He blinked, slowly regaining consciousness. It appeared that he was not, actually, dead, which was a development, unless this was hell. It didn't seem like it, though… Unless hell looked exactly like Division, which wouldn't surprise him in the slightest.

He tried to move his arms and legs only to find them strapped down. _Shit. _An interrogation was not what he needed right now, he needed to… _Wait. Hold on. What the hell?_

_Why won't… _he tried moving his arms again, feeling them strain against strong leather cuffs. Then he tried moving his legs. Nothing. No response.

_Shit._

Then there were footsteps, clicking slowly across the floor, men's dress heels and an expensive suit making their way towards him… and then Percy's silk-smooth, ever-derisive voice filled his ears. He winced.

"Hello, Will." A scoff. "Well, don't you just look terrible."

The scrape of a chair on the floor.

"Oh, relax. I'm not here to torture you. All that wincing is getting ridiculous."

He slowly opened his eyes again, realizing that he had been screwing them up in anticipation of the first blow.

"Then… then… what do you want?" he asked tentatively. God, his head was killing him and he had honestly expected to be dead by now._Why wasn't he dead again?_

"Well, I've done something for you. I've kept you alive. And, I can get you something I think you want, for one… small…. favor."

The chair was swung around and the man was seated.

"You do, of course, want your girl back? Maybe even your legs."

He panicked. "Girl? What girl?"

A chuckle.

"Oh, the lovely Jennifer, naturally. Known as JJ, I believe, to you, correct?" There was a smirk in his voice as he pulled out a small high-tech mp3 player. The recording began to play and he gritted his teeth.

_"Go, go, go, run, go, get out of here, go, now! JJ, now! Before they get here…"_

_"I can't just leave you all on your own, though. And what am I supposed to do out in the world? I'm a murderer. I'd be a fugitive."_

_"Get rid of the tracker and get out of here. It's your only chance and you know you want to take it. Now go."_

_"GO!"_

_"I'm coming back for you, Will, I promise! I promise…"_

He closed closed eyes against the flood of memory. He was shaking with rage. _How dare they send us out on a suicide mission and monitor us against our will._ Was it all a lie?

The hateful, hateful voice invaded his my sense again. "We're tracking her through the woods right now. Funny how these recording devices come in handy."

The words wrenched out of him involuntarily. "What do you want?"

Another chuckle. "From you? I want bait. Your legs were so badly broken they would never have healed properly, so we… fixed… your spinal chord for you. You'll never walk again. But I have a rogue asset I very much want to bring in, one that you failed to contain in the first place. Then, if you succeed, I'll let her live."

A scrape of the chair on the cold concrete floor.

"You might even get to see her again. Your choice."

He set his jaw, thinking. _They were going to capture her. They were going to kill her_. He weighed the two… _Nikita vs. JJ_. He had more sympathy for the rogue agent by the second, but JJ.

"I'll do it," he whispered with a cringe.

A pause in the footsteps that had been clicking their way back across the floor.

"What was that? Sorry, didn't catch…"

"I said I'll do it, you son of a bitch. How do you want me to contact her?"

A pause. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure something out, won't you?"

The doors slammed shut again. He slumped in his bonds.

He was going to do this. There was no other choice.

_Was there?_

* * *

He sat at his computer, alternating between typing and chugging Red Bull. _Hey, he could multitask. _Niki was up again, but there was still no way in freakin' hell that he was going to let Percy get away with something like this.

Also, he owed him for that house. Somebody did have to pay for these sorts of things. It was just his luck that he was really good at making money illegally via computer. Psh. Course they freeloaded. He was just that awesome, right?

But there was still the matter of how, precisely they were going to make Percy pay. They couldn't exactly break into the facility, especially with Niki still on the sick list. There had to be something, though. Some way to get back, some way to get Roan at least. That guy had been a freakin' scary pain in all their asses was far too long.

If it had been anyone else, Birkhoff would've doubted they were alive, but with Roan? He was probably fine.

Of course, just as he was relaxing back into the chair, sipping at his nearly-empty second can of red-bull and reaching for the bag of chips on the desk that a message from Sonya popped up. He very nearly fell over backwards before catching himself. _Jeez. Becoming a theme, much? Pancake you, chair._

But as soon as he looked at the message, he frowned. It wasn't a video chat like he'd been expecting, rather, a map with coordinates in some park approximately 40 miles from their new safe house, and a simple note that said, "Be there."

_Huh._

_Well, that's either the most obvious trap I have ever seen in my entire life, or she's ready to take this relationship to the next leve._

_Hmm._

_Focus, Birkhoff. Obvious trap. Got it._

He rolled back, about to call up to Mikey in the upstairs bedroom, and paused.

Niki could really use a moment with her guy… eh. He could do surveillance.

But brilliant hacking is never quite as much fun without someone to be impressed with it.

_That's the weakness of genius. It requires an audience._

* * *

He walked into his flat, more relieved to see the familiar mess than ever in his life. There was something comforting about seeing his old familiar books and quite a few empty mugs and plates scattered around on the old dinged-up coffee table that he'd whacked his shins on ten thousand times at least.

Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He would deal with all of the emotional acceptance that he had just been captured by some sort of underground spy agency and now he was going to be some sort of target, naturally, and he would end up in the newspapers and... _Well, thinking about it like that isn't going to help. _

He was relieved that he had been able to help the injured woman when the finally, finally made it to safety. He couldn't help thinking that it wouldn't have ended quite as well if she hadn't made it. Her shoulder mobility might be a little limited for a time, and she would need some time to recover from everything, but she would be fine, sooner rather than later.

He walked into his bedroom, smiling fondly at the wrinkled bedspread that had somehow found its way from his roommate's bed at college into his boxes when the moved out. It was a good reminder, now, of the wonders of student life.

Not even bothering to take off his shoes, he flopped down, intending just to relax a minute.

So, naturally, he fell asleep a few minutes later.

* * *

Alex smiled softly in the doorway of Dr. Branahan's bedroom, taking in the sight of a full-grown man flopped on the bed like a small child who was too worn out by the day to get ready for bed. The man had his quirks, that was for sure, but he had probably saved Nikita's life. Even if it had been quite the endeavor to get him there in the first place.

She turned, nodding to Sean.

"Sleeping beauty will be fine. Come on, let's go."

He smiled briefly, but his eyebrows were doing their small I'm-troubled-by-this-situation dance. _Funny how I can read him like that now._

She sighed in mock exasperation, crossing her arms in the most overexaggerated way possible. "What now, soldier?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, but… What if Division got an ID on him? I mean, Roan saw him. It's possible that they could, well, you know, persuade him into giving up our location."

She pursed her lips in thought. _Damn it._

"So, what then. You want to take him with us?"

He looked up to meet her eyes, nodding hesitantly. "We've killed too many civilians today already."

She took a breath, then nodded, giving a rueful grin. "Well, he should make things interesting at least, right?"

He gave a small laugh at that. "That's one way of putting it."

It wasn't until after they'd dragged a very, very annoyed and sleepy Doctor back to the car that Alex groaned internally. _I hope he doesn't slow us down. We're not exactly out of the line of fire._

* * *

He looked over at her from the driver's seat, noting the faint signs of exasperation on her face. _Funny how I can read her like that now._

Grinning faintly, he glanced over at her, teasing, "Oh, what now, princess?"

She shook her head, laughing gently. "Nothing, I was just thinking that we're basically something out of a TV show now. I mean, a group of assassins with their own techie and now picking up a bumbling doctor by accident?"

They both laughed at that one for a good long while.

* * *

He looked down at the hospital registry before him. They found the right face, finally. It had taken far too long for the Division doctors to clear him to leave the medical compound. The wounds had been addressed and he was back in commission.

_Update in Mission : Kill Alpha Threat One (Nikita)- New objective: Obtain information on Dr. Thomas Branahan._

The small, cruel smile was back, and so was the light in his eyes behind the same old pair of indestructible glasses.

Percy would not doubt his effectiveness again.

Not after this.

**Whew, all right. So, as I said, I've got two more chapters of madness and an epilogue planned out. I really don't even know anymore.**

**I know about zip about getting shot outside of movies and television.**

**So I just kind of made things up. Whoops. Oh well!**

**And I neglected you guys for far, far too long, and I am absurdly sorry.**

**WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**Oh, and if you completely forgot everything about what is happening in this fic, you're not the only one (whoops.)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Apologies for suspense. So on and so forth. **

It had taken them a little bit to settle into some sort of a rhythm.

It had been a week, and Michael was still fawning over Nikita, completely overconcerned about every single little movement. After about five days she had ended up flipping him one-armed and sitting on him until he agreed to ease up. Birkhoff hadn't stopped laughing since.

The house was peaceful, almost. There was still an undercurrent of fear, the knowledge that it had been like this before and everything could be taken away again. But for now, sparring and breakfast were on the schedule, and Nikita was standing in the upstairs bedroom, looking out over the woods behind the house.

She smiled, softly. _It's always good to have a home. _Downstairs, she could hear muted bickering over coffee-making responsibilities, punctuated by Birkhoff's loud offers to just throw them all out (an oft-repeated threat) and eventually, Alex's laughter.

She turned back, slowly rolling out her yoga mat and staring at it contemplatively. This peace would soon be shattered, of course. _There is no way in hell we are letting Percy get away with this one. _But for now, it was time to heal. Time to relax. And there was no way she was going to waste that squabbling about coffee. _Besides, everyone knows that tea rules over all. _

After a few minutes of slow transitions between some of the simpler poses, carefully avoiding her bad shoulder, she heard the gentle rustle of another yoga mat on the floor. Alex's voice cut through the quiet of the room. "Old habits die hard, huh?"

She smiled. "One of these days, I'll have all of you doing this."

They continued on in silence, glancing at each other every so often as they matched poses, shifting fluidly if not seamlessly.

Just for a little bit, they could have their peace.

* * *

Michael ended up making the coffee, after Alex threw a pillow at his head and Sean continued to sit on the solitary couch, hiding his smiles behind a newspaper which seemed to be written in Chinese. Birkhoff gave up and had potato chips for breakfast, muttering under his breath about idiotic-coffee-pot-hoarding-maniacs. Dr. Branahan had eventually settled in with the whole routine, although he had greatly objected to being woken up and dragged off. Again.

The house had quickly settled into something like peace. It was always nice, feeling like he could just stay for a bit. After so long at Division spent running around after everyone (although chasing Nikita seemed to be a theme that he could never avoid) and trying to manage everything, one of the things that he loved most about being _out _was just being able to rest, every once in a little while.

Not that they spent much of their time resting.

Ever.

About an hour later, he found himself making his way up the stairs towards the bedroom that he'd staked out for Nikita on the first night. He knew he was being over-protective, but… he couldn't really blame himself for being scared of losing his family.

He paused in the doorway, smiling at the sight of Alex and Nikita doing yoga in the mid-morning sun, side-by-side. He crept up, in the unobtrusive way that only certain types of people can ever dream of managing, and was greeted by Nikita without so much as a backward glance. "You know, if you're in here watching, you have to join us. It's in the rules."

He smiled, looking down. "Thought I was being stealthy."

"Mmm. You always do, honey."

Nikita gracefully rose from a near-painful looking squat that involved balancing on the toes, and turned to smile at him. "I wasn't kidding about joining us, you know."

Michael smirked, turning to leave. "Well, in that case…"

"Uh-uh. No escape now. Come on," Alex commanded, a sly grin on her face as the two women grabbed his arms, pulling him forward.

_Oh no _was his last thought before they began demonstrating the first pose, and he lost himself in a whirlwind of not-being-as-quite-as-well-balanced-as-he-thought-he-was.

* * *

Casa de la Badasses was quiet. Too quiet. Seanny-boy had disappeared to wherever he lurked in his spare time, dragging Dr. Branahan with him (Birkhoff had NO idea what they ended up doing- probably shooting something) and there was a rather mysterious absence of Michael, Nikita, and Alex. Now, normally, he wouldn't question the absence of the first two… but unless there was some _seriously _kinky threesome going on up there, he somehow doubted that things were getting heavy. _Oh, no, do not get that mental image in your head, you will never, ever get it OUT. _

He twirled in his chair (the only piece of furniture that he had specifically requested when he bought the house- ergonomic and twirly just can't be beat) and contemplated his options. He could go investigate, risking the very, very slim chance of needing brain bleach, or he could sit there and drink Red Bull all day. _Oh, come on, even you aren't that lazy. Especially when you're bored. _He sighed, staring at the slowly rotating and blinking symbols on his computer screen. Essentially, a whole lot of nothing was going down. And, will you look at that. He's out of Red Bull.

Getting up to grab another can, a loud thump came from upstairs. _Please do not be what I don't want you to be _he silently pleaded as he made his way up the stairs. He peeked around the door frame, half-expecting to be utterly and completely scandalized, when he was greeted with the most hilarious thing he'd seen all week. Mikey was sprawled out on the floor in a tangle of limbs while Alex and Niki gazed down in teasing condescension, balancing in some sort of moderately complicated yoga position.

Oh.

_I am never god damned letting him live this one down. _

He makes it down the stairs somehow, only to collapse back in his chair, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughs, and laughs and laughs.

Which, naturally was when something actually popped up on the surveillance footage for the park that Sonja had sent him the coordinates to a few days ago, an event which he had so far failed to mention to the others.

"Whoa, whoa, what the hell is this?!" he exclaimed as soon as he regained control of his hiccups and started typing again. There was some guy that he'd never seen before, sitting on the end of the slide in the otherwise empty playground.

Teasing Mikey could wait. _Actually, no it can't. _

But it looked like the resting period was over.

"GUUUUUUUYS!" he called. "NOT TO INTERRUPT YOGA, BUT YOU NEED TO SEE THIS."

* * *

They'd dropped Will off in the playground, laying him carelessly down on the smooth plastic, an entire vest of bombs strapped to his chest.

Sonya had offered to help him contact Birkhoff. And considering this was the only way that he could possibly save JJ without the use of his legs, he'd agreed to the plan immediately. Like this, crippled, useless, his life was essentially over anyways.

Percy had been lying, of course. About seeing her again. But maybe that was all right. He sure wouldn't have to see the aftermath of whatever was about to happen.

_So this is how the great Nikita goes out. In a big boom of Division Agent. _

_Great. _

The wind whipped through the empty playground and he shivered, though its touch was not truly cold. Of all the ways he'd expected to die, since being in the program and even before, when he was a child just beginning to understand the workings of our great and terrible world, he had never anticipated this. Paralysis. And explosions. _At least it'll be dramatic. I should have a soundtrack. _

_And it will be quick. _

He drifted in and out of daydreams, before he heard the noises. It sounded like shooting, and yelling, coming from the woodland side of the park. And it was getting closer, and closer. He shook himself, lifting up his head and staring, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Suddenly, fire opened from the trees around him, but there was a figure, a solitary figure, emerging from the woods, a figure that what felt like moments ago he had been fully prepared never to see again. And she was running for her life. But the Division agents were being mowed down by the people in the trees, and the com in his ear was crackling to life.

_Damn it, JJ. _

Percy's smooth voice filled his ear. "I did tell you that you would see her again. But don't doubt that we're watching. Get. The job. Done. And we will let her go."

He laughed, heedless. "No, you won't. Of course you won't."

A chuckle from the other end. "Well, you'll never know either way, will you?"

The shooting got closer.

It was all going to end somehow.

_JJ, please stay the hell away from the playground._

* * *

It was just a park, just a playground. Michael and Nikita were moving as a pair, silent between the trees. Sean hovered behind Alex, as they whispered to each other softly. "Do you recognize him?"

"No."

They moved in closer.

Shots echoed from the woods, as running figures came into view. Alarm bells went off in his head as he recognized a Division hit team. Options ran through his head. _Anyone Division is trying to kill is good enough for me. _Sean and Alex looked at each other, nodded once, and began to move forward, aiming at the figures in black running through the trees.

Then, the woman reached the playground, stopping in shock by the swingset before moving into the relative cover of the main playset. He heard a shriek of, "WILL!"

_So she knows the man on the slide. _

Michael and Nikita finished off the last of the strike team. They slowly moved to the edge of the wood chipped area.

"Stay back," the man on the slide called, his hand on some sort of trigger. "They're watching."

He locked eyes with Nikita. "I have to do this."

The woman who had run through the trees was still clutching at the playground, a look of stony sadness on her face. What might have been a tear slipped down her cheek, before she wiped it away furiously. Stepping forward slowly, she moved towards him. "Will… what did they do to you?" she inquired gently.

"DON'T!" the man- no, Will, shrieked. His voice sounded scratchy, like maybe he was on the verge of something, either tears of blind screaming. "Don't. They're watching. And… I can't move."

_God damn it. _

_Division had managed to get back at them first after all._

* * *

She had been moving through the woods for what felt like years, sleeping when she could, eating anything she found that was edible. They must have had some way to track her, though, because whenever she rose from a fitful nap she could hear them moving in the distance. Slowly, she was herded in one direction. She knew it had to be deliberate, but she could not figure out why. _If they're trying to trap me someplace… What's waiting for me there?_

They had begun their final drive perhaps half an hour ago. She was sprinting pel-mel through woods and fields, through backyards of confused civilians and finally into a park. They were shooting now, driving her faster, and she ducked her head as bullets zinged around her.

She had just hit the open ground when someone else opened fire, taking out the strike team one by one. At first she was grateful. But then, then she saw him.

She had moved towards the playground as a desperate source of cover, a temporary respite for heaving lungs and shaking limbs. But then, there was Will, sprawled out on the slide in a jacket much too bulky to conceal anything but a bomb.

The words he said confused her. _What did they have on him? _

_Oh. _

_They've been herding me. _

_Of course. _

_You dumb stupid fucking son of a bitch, you aren't allowed to sacrifice yourself for me. Not again. _

That was Nikita, on the other side of the playground. Percy had to be watching. That must have been the price. Blow yourself and Nikita up, and we let her go. The rogue agent must have been lured here somehow. But Percy had played Will, brought her here too. Now they were all going to die.

Unless she could talk him down.

She took a deep breath, moving forward, keeping her eyes on the shaking hand clutching the trigger that could blow them all away.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN**

**(I have no idea where that came from or why I am so evil but I shall continue…)**

**Leave a review?**

**ALSO I have things planned... lots of things...**

**{edit} So, I went through and made some minor changes, but reading though this I realized that this chapter was actually a whole freaking LOT better than I thought it was when I uploaded it at three am. Ah well. MOAR UPDATES COMING!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Consider the quick update an apology for long waits, general shenanigans on my part, and evil cliffhangers. **

JJ stepped forward, heard pounding in her throat, woodchips crackling faintly under her feet. She locked eyes with him as she stepped closer to him. There was a com in his mouth, but there was something… wrong about the way he was sitting, laying almost completely back onto the slide. As if… her steps faltered and she stood staring in shock. When he had been buried in rubble, both of his legs had been broken so badly. Had Division taken them away completely?

Will's eyes were pleading with her now, begging her to _run, run, go, just go, get out of here. _But she couldn't. Not now. It wasn't like she had a chance of escaping Division even if she did live through this. She knew too much, no matter what kind of deal Will and Percy had made would be completely voic the second he was dead, and she would go to meet them someplace over the rainbow where bluebirds fly.

JJ stopped when he raised his fist in a threatening matter, choking out, "Don't… don't take another step."

Nikita's sudden movement to her side and gentle touch on her arm startled her. Will let out a shriek of, "GET AWAY FROM HER!" The other woman ignored him.

Sad, calm eyes of a deep, liquid brown color met her own startled gaze, more watery than she would care to admit. _I've __**killed**__ people before, why should this be so god damn hard?_

"Can you talk him down?" Nikita murmured, her voice sympathetic but not patronizing.

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She squared her small shoulders. "I can try."

Michael grabbed Nikita gently, reeling her away to the edge of the playground in a gesture both protective and respectful of the JJ and Will. Whatever happened in the next few minutes would be between them and them alone. Then, of course, another Division strike team would probably show up and muck everything around again, hey.

She took another step forward and he let out another cry of "DON'T! Don't…"

_Stand down, you idiot, so we can get you out of this._

* * *

Michael grimaced, pulling Nikita back to the edge of the playground. It was a dream, that she could manage to talk him down, when Percy had set up the situation like this. It was strategic, and they'd all been lured somehow. _I guess that means that Sonya really is playing for Division now. Poor Birkhoff_. And even if Will stood down, there probably was no way out of this.

The vest would be equipped with remote detonation, and if he allowed any of them to get close enough it would be activated immediately. The location of the playground, set far into the park, meant that they would have to run back to the car to grab any sort of signal jammer, and by the time any of them had managed that the Division strike team would almost certainly be here. If they stood around waiting, then the Division strike team was definitely going to be there. If the man on the slide blew them all up (_no, not the man, she had called him Will)_, then the Division strike team would still be there, but there would be the added disadvantage that all of them would be dead already.

Plans flicked through his head, and he glanced at Nikita, who he could practically _see_ thinking.

She looked at him, with a clear, grim, sense of realization in her gaze. "There's no way out of this for him, is there?"

He shook his head, looking over to where the woman was talking Will and making soothing gestures. "The best thing to do is clear everyone out."

Nikita sighed, following his gaze to focus in on the pair. She was moving ever closer to the slide, and his hand was relaxing on the trigger. "She won't go willingly, not now."

Michael stowed his gun back on the holster, considering. _If we grab her, and Nikita is close enough, they'll detonate…_

"Stay here." He commanded, signaling for Alex and Sean to move backwards, far enough out of the blast range that they would be fine. Alex met his eyes for a second as he strode forward. She looked shaken, but nodded and pulled Sean off back towards the parking lot, raising their guns in anticipation for (yet another) hit squad.

Birkhoff's voice echoed in his ear as his com crackled to life. "Mikey, what the _hell _are you doing? They'll detonate as soon as you're in range!"

He ignored it, ignored everything, ignored Nikita's shout of "Michael!" He clicked the com, switched it to send. "Nikita, stay back. They'll detonate as soon as you're in range."

Her words were angry and fast. "And what if they detonate as soon as you're in range?"

He glanced over a shoulder as the woodchips crackled and the sound of a struggle erupted behind him. Alex and Sean had returned to grab Nikita and take her out of the blast radius. _Thank god. _He moved forward, ignoring the last shout of, "MICHAEL!"

_Here goes everything._

* * *

She had refused to go away. Of course she had. Will took a deep breath and tried to focus his thoughts as her voice washed over him. Nikita was no longer in blast range, so there was no point in him detonating. If their group left completely, however, Percy would not hesitate to detonate as a mere clean-up, an efficient way to get rid of the two agents who had dared to disobey.

JJ was taking slow steps toward him, and he focused on her eyes, giving a small shake of his head. He honed in on her voice. "Will, come on. We can get out of this. But you need to put down that trigger and let me help you."

He shook his head again. _Why doesn't she just understand? I CAN'T. _"JJ, they'll blow it us up the second I put it down. You gotta get out of here."

She stopped moving forward but her voice was firm. "No. I did not sleep in the woods for a week just to come watch you get blown up. I think I still have twigs in my hair!" her voice broke slightly on the last syllable, the attempt at a humorous tone lost. _She knows. She knows she's probably going to die. _

And then there was Michael, coming up behind her to grab her shoulder. "We have to leave him and get out of here."

She slapped his hand off, turning and nearly hissing with rage. "I'm not goddamn leaving him."

He looked at her sadly, but his eyes were determined. "There isn't anything we can do. You're going to get yourself killed too."

JJ straightened, eyes flashing. "Then I get myself killed too." And with that, she finally turned, and nearly ran over to him, evading Michael's attempt to grab her arm and prying the trigger out of his unresisting hand.

There was a click, and the vest started counting down. JJ looked him in the eye, briefly startled by the tear running down his cheek. Gunfire erupted from the parking lot. _The strike team's here. Doesn't really matter, though. _"JJ…"

"Shh." She whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips. The timer continued to count down. _Ten seconds. Nine. Eight._

His eyes fluttered shut, but he did not let her linger. _I'm not going to be responsible for killing her. _Gathering what strength he could muster, he shoved her up and off into the waiting arms of Michael, who grabbed her and ran. She started screaming, kicking at him.

_Seven. Six. Five. _

They were halfway, and she was still kicking and shrieking. _They're not going to make it. _And then Nikita was there, grabbing her, helping pull her struggling form out, to the edge of the blast radius.

_Four. Three. Two. _

_They're nearly free. _

_One._

* * *

The explosion threw them all forward into the grass, Michael tightening his grip on JJ's form and Nikita's good arm as they fell.

Silence.

Then, slowly, bangs and the sound of sobbing crept their way into their ears, which were now ringing painfully.

She released JJ, looking over at Michael before turning back to see the playground, or what was left of it, for that matter.

_There's no way he survived that. _She looked down at JJ's form, curled into a ball on the grass. There were scrapes and bruises on her face, and leaves twisted in her hair, but she knew that the pain she felt was greater than anything physical. She reached down to lay a comforting hand on the woman's arm, and was immediately shaken off.

She looked up at Michael and mouthed 'Leave her.' There was only one person's touch that she would want now, and that was something that neither of them could offer. That was something that no one would ever be able to offer ever again. _I know I didn't let go of him for a very long time after Colombia. _

Michael staggered to his feet and went to go help Sean and Alex where they had the strike team pinned down in their vehicles. The shots became sparser and then died away, but still she sat by JJ in the grass.

She continued to sit next to her, offering silent support and a warm mug of tea, all through the car ride and back when they made it to the safe house. Dr. Branahan had examined her, proclaiming her in shock but otherwise fine.

_She's anything but fine._

* * *

Roan watched the idiotic tactics implemented by the strike teams with a sense of fury that he could not quite restrain. _Objective: kill Nikita- incomplete. _They had anticipated perfect control over the situation. They had not anticipated them leaving the boy. All targets had survived. _It seems that Nikita's bleeding heart is fading. _

He turned, stalking out of Operations, clearing a path through nervous recruits and intimidated analysts as he made his way down to Percy's office. He stepped in to find the man already on the phone, berating someone.

Percy turned without prompting, meeting his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh of furious disbelief. "When will those IDIOTS finally learn how to capture one simple little rogue agent?"

He did not answer.

Percy sat down, steeping his fingers and resting his chin upon them. He took a moment of cold consideration before looking up. "Find them."

He nodded, moving out into the hallway.

* * *

A week later, she stood at the entrance of the airport, her face hidden in the shade of a hooded sweatshirt that had originally belonged to Alex. The past week had passed in a daze.

It had taken two days for her to break down, sobbing into Nikita's shoulder. _That is all you let the world see _she reminded herself. Nobody else had known him, really, at Division, and as kind as the rogue agents had been in offering her their home, she was off to do something productive and peaceful in a non-extradition country. _He would have wanted that. _

Every bone in her body ached to stay, ached for revenge, but the look on his face, the last words that he whispered just before she was pulled away, they were what grounded her feet and calmed her heart. If she got herself killed, after everything he had sacrificed to keep her alive, then she would truly have failed. And the fight against Division, when won, would not fill the emptiness in her chest, she knew that.

And so she went.

Nikita gave her a warm hug and a silent squeeze to the shoulder. There were no words, really. The others had stayed behind in the car, watching from a safe distance, wary of the safety cameras. Birkhoff offered some sarcastic comment on the coms that she would wear until she landed safely. And then she was free, free to go be whoever she liked.

She wasn't sure who that person she wanted to be was anymore, but she had a sinking suspicion that the person she wanted to be was the woman who Will came home to at night.

She sighed, turning to face the airport.

It was time.

* * *

The ride home was nearly silent. Michael had wrapped a comforting arm around Nikita, murmuring to her softly as she stared out the window with tears shining in her eyes.

Alex curled up in her seat, staring out the window. They had very nearly lost everything, so many times, in this week alone. _The missions are always hardest when all you gain are injuries. _

The house was mostly silent, as everyone made their way around, lost in their own world of thought. Birkhoff's keyboard taps and occasional hoots of victory when he succeeded in defeating yet another video game foe were the only sounds that she heard, but she could not even bring herself to be annoyed at how quickly he seemed to be recovering. _Everyone needs a safety blanket. _

It was lunchtime when she decided that everyone needed to pull themselves together and move on. That was the hardest part of the mission sometimes, letting go of it when it ended badly. But they'd dealt with loss and failure before, this was no different.

Slamming the plates down on the counter, she made Sean jump at least three feet in the air from where he had been sitting on a wooden stool, staring at the counter as if in deep concentration. Explosions were never a good thing for him, not after his mother.

"We're going to make soup for lunch."

Sean's face scrunched up in confusion. "What?"

"Us. Making lunch. Now."

"Alex, we never make lunch. You never make lunch. Birkhoff eats potato chips and chemicals for survival. What's the deal?"

She looked down, opening two cans of Campbell's tomato soup and whacking them until the orangeish reddish glop fell into a pot that looked like it belonged on a spaceship more than in a kitchen. "Well, everybody needs to do something," she said imperiously.

Which is how, 20 minutes later, they all found themselves sitting around the dining room table, looking down at a slightly overcooked bowl of tomato soup bemusedly. But soon chatter erupted again, and there was laughter.

Alex smiled.

_Maybe we won't get Roan today, but everything will be all right._

* * *

**Wow. Thank you all. This story really belongs to you all, because without your encouragement there is no way on EARTH I would ever have found the motivation to get beyond the first chapter. **

**There will be an epilogue (not sure how long…) posted whenever I get around to it. **

**Again, I really don't know how to say how much I love you for putting up with my random posting and a plotline that surprised me more than anyone else, I think. **

***hugs everyone collectively***

**Tell me how my first multi-chapter fic went?**


	16. Epilogue

**Well, this is it. This is really, really it. **

Her shoulder burned as she held Percy suspended over the chasm, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against her wrist. It was the same shoulder that Roan had shot her in, and it had healed nicely, but the effort of holding up another person's full body weight was draining and she could feel her grip beginning to weaken.

Nikita looked into his eyes, hearing his bargains, the threats of Roan triggering a meltdown. But his earlier words were still ringing in her ears.

"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it."

There was so much anger in his voice, a rage that almost never penetrated the cool exterior man who had taken a young, lost woman and shaped her into someone who could kill. He had molded her into someone dark, someone efficient, someone who kept her heart locked in a chest of steel, and someone who could look at a human being and see only weaknesses and strengths.

But that was never Nikita, not truly. That was Josephine. That was the part of her that she locked deep, deep down inside, that was the part of her that she _never _let the people she cared about see. Because they would know her, they would know that there was a part of her soul still tainted by the terrors of a childhood and the twisted words of a man she had dangling off her hand.

She should have dropped him instantly. She should have told Birkhoff to watch for the signal and dropped him, closed that chapter on her life, avenged the re-knitted flesh that she could feel straining in her shoulder.

She let her hand straighten, feeling his hand slide down her wrist with a sense of revulsion. He was silent now, realizing that this was the end. His threats, his most carefully laid plans, his greatest efforts had not been enough. And in the end, he was just a man. Just another scared little boy on the brink of eternal rest.

And in that moment, she forgave him. She forgave him her shoulder wound, the saving of her life only to destroy it, the torture mission after mission after mission, wounds to the heart and the body that had left scar after scar, sending the man he knew she loved after her relentlessly, destroying everyone she held dear and nearly killing everyone she loved- she forgave him.

And then he slid off her hand all the way.

Her breathing was harsh as she heard the dull _thunk_ of a body hitting the ground so many feet below. He was gone. He was done forever_. _They had won.

And yet she could not celebrate. What was done was done, but she had no delusions of what the future would hold, even in that moment of painful triumph.

There was a storm coming.

And they would have to carry on the best they could, and the same patched-together last-minute solutions and mayhem would doubtless ensue. But running Division would be different. It would be hard, perhaps even harder than bringing it down in the first place.

But she had a family now.

And as she picked herself up off the ground, she held her head high.

The old hierarchy was gone, and it had come at a great cost. There had been so many, so many that deserved to be remembered. _Will. _

But she had finally, _finally_ won.

After a moment, she smiled.

_Birkhoff's going to redecorate his desk all over again. _

**Thank you for sticking with me, you fantastic people. I've made friends over this fic and received more recognition that I ever hoped for or ever thought I deserved. **

**You guys are truly incredible. **

**We'll see what happens next. *wink***

**"Shot through the heart  
And you're to blame  
Darlin'  
You give love a bad name"**


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